Magical Secrets the Prequel
by AStudyInTeal
Summary: Follow Bellatrix Lestrange's daughter, Isabella Lestrange, AKA Bella Swan, through her early years--before Bella met and fell in love with Edward Cullen--growing up, as both a Chosen One and as two Death Eaters' daughter. *Read Magical Secrets 1 first*
1. September 1980: Birth and the Prophecy

**~ September 13****th**** 1980 ~**

**Malfoy Manor**

Bellatrix Lestrange was bored.

She wanted to be out there, fighting in the Dark Lord's name. But instead, she had been ordered—by not only her husband and sister, but also the aforementioned Dark Lord—to stay at home and rest until the baby was born.

That damn baby, she cursed internally. It was all Rodolphus' fault.

She was due any day now. Her sister, Narcissa, was due in early June—she was only about a month pregnant, and already planning the baby's room in the large Malfoy Manor. The sisters were pretty much opposites, not only in appearance. Narcissa couldn't wait for her little baby. Bellatrix, well, she never wanted a child in the first place, but was happy to be providing her Lord with a future follower, and, although you'd never get her to admit it if you tried, secretly a bit anxious to meet the little daughter she'd been carrying and nurturing. She was skeptical of course, but, in some ways, her pregnancy was useful. Being tortured with the Cruciatus might hurt the baby, so she had not been cursed with the Unforgiveable in months. And she got out of missions. Of course, she loved to serve her Lord, but by no means enjoyed the risk of being captured by Aurors, even if it was fun to see them squirm under pressure…

As she was so close to her due date, her husband was here, with her, at her sister's home.

In the large mansion, it was only Bellatrix, Narcissa, Lucius, Rodolphus, and Rabastian, Rodolphus' brother.

Bellatrix had been pondering which house elf she would call to use the Cruciatus Curse—didn't want to get out of practice, did she?—when she suddenly gasped.

"Cissy!" she shrieked, clutching her inflated abdomen.

The younger sister tore into the woman's room, her blue eyes wide. "What is it, Bella? Is—is something wrong?" Lucius and the two Lestrange brothers were right behind her, alarmed by the expecting woman's shriek.

The dark, expecting woman groaned, but shrieked, "The baby! My water just broke!"

Nearly nine hours later, the pregnant woman was in labor and still screaming as the contractions got worse and worse and the baby came nearer and nearer. They'd quickly moved her to the bedroom in which she and her husband were staying in.

Her husband was behind her, supporting her, as she squeezed his hand tight as she could, cursing and screaming at all of them, but mostly him.

Narcissa was acting as midwife, Rabastian and Lucius fetching whatever she requested--scratch that. The small, petite blond woman was shrieking orders at them that the two men dared not disobey her.

"Come on, Bella!" Narcissa coaxed her elder sister.

Then, a new sound filled the air, drowning out the sound of Bellatrix's labored breathing: a young baby girl's breathing

Narcissa wiped blood from the tiny infant, wrapping it in a warm blanket before handing it to its mother.

"Congratulations, Bella." She said, smiling, relieved. "It's a girl."

The exhausted woman took the infant in her arms with curiosity the harsh lines of her face.

As Bellatrix held the tiny child against her breast, the girl opened her wide eyes.

The girl was almost the mirror image of her mother as a newborn.

She was a small infant, rather thin with long limbs. Her skin was like porcelain, very pale and smooth, but still covered in small amounts of blood. Her small amount of still damp, curled, dark hair was pasted to her head, but it was clear that it was a dark brown, similar to Bellatrix's, but lighter, like Rodolphus' brown hair. Her pale face was heart-shaped, her chin pointed instead of Bellatrix's strong jaw. Her intelligent eyes were lighter than her mother's black eyes, rather a deep chocolate brown. But, even as a just-born infant, you could see how easily the infant looked like her beautiful mother. They had the same thin nose, the delicately arched eyebrows, regal-looking high cheekbones, and full lips, as well as the traditional patrician beauty from the Black family that was so well known in the Wizarding World.

But the lighter hair and softer features reminded the two sisters of someone they'd rather forget: their other sister, Andromeda.

The little infant looked up at her two parents, who were staring at the child, quite surprised and unsure what to think of the baby.

It was Lucius who spoke first.

"Hey, doesn't she look like—what's her name—Andr—"

But he fell silent at the sharp look his wife sent him. "Don't you _dare _speak that blood-traitor's name," she hissed fiercely.

"Er—" Lucius corrected himself, "—doesn't she look awfully like you, Bellatrix?"

Rabastian ignored the two. "What will you name her?" he asked curiously, quietly.

The two new parents stared at the child, thinking.

"What about naming her after her mother?" Rodolphus asked, grinning almost cheekily at his wife. She rolled her eyes.

"Two Bellatrix's in the same home?" she asked doubtfully, sarcastically. "Oh no, that won't be confusing at all."

"Well, something else then…but she should be named after you, still….What about Isabella?"

Bellatrix nodded her approval.

Narcissa smiled to her elder sister. It was a Black family tradition to name children after stars, constellations, comets, et cetera. Isabella happened to be the name of an asteroid.

Bellatrix smiled—oddly enough—softly down at the infant, who was staring up with those intelligent eyes at her mother.

"Isabella Marie Lestrange…" the Death Eater decided, the girl's fate already sealed.

At that very moment, many miles away in Scotland, in a small room above a rather dirty pub in the small village of Hogsmeade, a very significant meeting was taking place, unrealized yet by the participants.

Albus Dumbledore was interviewing Sybil Trelawney for the position of Divination teacher at Hogwarts. The aging Headmaster was about to give up on the woman, and was turning to leave, when he heard the woman's voice changed, becoming deep and ominous:

_"The two with the powers to vanquish the Dark Lord approach…one born a traitor to her family, and having escaped them as an infant…with nearly unrivaled powers, she will be born to his most loyal followers…and the other shall be born as the seventh month dies…he shall be born to those who have thrice defied Him…Opposites in nearly every way in birth and blood…and the Dark Lord shall mark them as his equals, but they shall have powers the Dark Lord knows naught…and either they or he will perish at the hands of the other, for neither they nor he can live while the other survives…The two with the powers to vanquish the Dark Lord approach swiftly…"_

Hours later, the old Headmaster was sitting in his office, pondering the prophecy he'd just heard, dissecting it precisely and carefully.

It obviously meant two children would be born soon, who would be destined to defeat the Dark Lord, at least, according to the prophecy. One was the daughter of two loyal Death Eaters, the other a son of a couple who had defied Voldemort three times—in other words, a child of a member or two of the Order of the Phoenix. How interesting, he mused, a child of Death Eaters and a child of the Order of the Phoenix. _Opposites in nearly every way in birth and blood…_ How true.

And somehow, they were destined to defeat Voldemort, if the prophecy was true—a Death Eater daughter and an Order son—together. Interesting…

Hm. Voldemort would 'mark them as his equals'? Well, he'd just have to wait to see how that played out…

Powers the Dark Lord knew naught? It had to be love. Voldemort had always been woefully ignorant of the power of love, the Headmaster knew.

But then, the last bit. 'Either they or he would perish at the hands of the other, for neither they nor he can live while the other survives'…Curious. Very curious…

He sighed, stroking Fawkes, before standing to head to his rooms.

He'd just have to wait to see how it played out…


	2. November 1980: Rescue

**~Early Fall 1981~**

**Malfoy Manor**

None of the Order of the Phoenix members really wanted to be there. But they'd volunteered, knowing their mission was crucial, after all, vital to winning the war against Voldemort.

It'd sounded easy enough: rescue Isabella Lestrange, infant daughter of Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange, before Lord Voldemort figured out that Isabella was one of the two children of the prophecy.

As time wore on, it was becoming more and more difficult.

The Order members had discreetly spied upon and tracked Isabella Lestrange, watching for a chance.

Today, the several Order members had followed Bellatrix, along with the little infant, to the Death Eater's sister's home: Malfoy Manor. Apparently, the Death Eater and her husband had been sent out on a mission, so the woman was giving the infant to her sister to watch.

While Bellatrix was indifferent and apathetic, Narcissa Malfoy was more kind and caring—especially when it came to her son and niece. She was a much better mother and aunt than Bellatrix could ever be. Bellatrix didn't care for her daughter much. She only cared for the Dark Lord, of course.

The Order wanted to rescue Isabella, not only because of the prophecy, but also because they wanted to save her from having the Death Eater ideals and life thrust upon her.

Today, it was Lily and James Potter, Sirius Black, and Remus Lupin watching. They were spread out around the Malfoy Manor, all inside the perimeter, without arousing suspicion. They'd devised a plan.

It was a simple plan, but a plan.

Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa's husband, was also out on a mission for the Dark Lord.

So it was only Narcissa, infant Draco, and little Isabella in Malfoy Manor. It was late evening. The two infants were already asleep in their cribs. Narcissa was downstairs, rearranging portraits of deceased family.

That was when they made their move.

After they nullified the Anti-Intruder Spells, Sirius had transformed into his Animagus form, a dog. He barked near the front of the house, the opposite end that Isabella was in. Narcissa Malfoy immediately heard and walked outside, determined to be rid of whatever mangy mutt had come.

That was when Lily Potter made her move. Creeping forward vigilantly from the shrubbery, she crept to the side of the house.

Quickly, she brandished her wand, silently casting, _Ascendio!_

Immediately, she shot upwards, to the second story window. Her hand shot out and grabbed the windowsill, with perfect timing and accuracy. With ease, she pulled herself into the elegant mansion.

After righting herself, she looked out the window and gave thumbs up to her husband, who was watching anxiously from below.

Acting quickly, Lily turned and observed the room. She'd entered the nursery. There were two cribs. The nearest had a screaming, fair-haired infant boy. He screamed louder upon seeing the strange new intruder. Lily looked to the second crib.

Inside, there was a dark haired, pale, scrawny baby girl, sound asleep.

Lily, gentle as possible, scooped up the sleeping infant, holding her tightly in her arms.

"It's okay now. You're safe, little Isabella." She murmured to the sleeping child.

Swiftly as she could Lily left the room, leaving behind the screaming infant that was Draco Malfoy, unfortunately.

When Narcissa returned inside, she was muttering to herself, frowning because she hadn't managed to find the blasted mutt that disrupted her peace. As she shut the door behind her, she heard her son bawling upstairs.

She rushed into the nursery, then gasped.

It wasn't her son that was the problem. It was her niece—her currently missing niece.

Little Isabella was gone, her crib empty, the window wide open.

Flying to the window, she gasped in anger when she saw several people Disapparate: Lily and James Potter, Sirius Black, and Remus Lupin: members of the Order of the Phoenix.

Shit.

Bellatrix wouldn't be pleased. Not pleased at all…

**Godric's Hollow,**

**Ten Minutes Later…**

After evacuating the Malfoy Manor's premises, the four Order members were back at the Potters' home, with the rest of the Order. The Potters' home was one of the many Order meeting places.

Lily still held the infant girl in her arms, as the Order discussed what to do with the girl.

It was late. Her own child, Harry, was asleep upstairs in his nursery.

She stared at the tiny child in her arms, thinking.

Although unhealthily pale and thin, the infant looked uncannily identical to her mother. The same patrician beauty as her mother and family. The same shining dark hair—although Isabella had mahogany colored tresses, while her mother had ebony locks. She had lighter eyes than her mother—a deep chocolate brown, rather than near black. She had softer features than her mother. In a way, Isabella reminded Lily of Bellatrix's estranged sister, and the (presently absent) Order member, Andromeda Tonks.

Unlike her obnoxious cousin, Isabella was quiet. She lay awake in Lily's arms, looking around at her new surroundings, curious.

Lily smiled softly, maternally to the slight infant.

"I say we give her to Andromeda," Sirius said, thinking of his kind cousin. "She is the girl's aunt, anyways. And she has seven year old Nymphadora; she'd know how to care for the girl properly."

Dumbledore shook his head. "I already spoke to Andromeda about it earlier. She said she would love too, but that her sister would predict us sending Isabella to her and Ted."

Lily spoke up. "Why don't James and I care for her?"

All eyes looked to the intelligent witch. She continued, "We are going into hiding, anyways. She would be safe with us."

The others looked hesitant to agree.

Beside Lily, her husband spoke up. "She would. We wouldn't mind taking her in."

"That's actually a good suggestion," Remus Lupin said thoughtfully, looking to one of his best friends and his wife.

"I agree with Lily." Alice Longbottom spoke up from beside her husband, who nodded his agreement.

Sirius Black looked at his friend and his wife, who held the Death Eater's daughter, his cousin (well, first cousin once removed, technically), so lovingly in her arms. "So do I." he said, grinning at James.

Dumbledore nodded. "I think that is best."

Minerva McGonagall nodded as well, as she sat beside her husband. "Yes, it is."

Lily Potter beamed at the rest of the Order. "Thank you." She told them, smiling brightly.

She looked down to the curious infant girl in her arms. "You're here to stay, little Bella."


	3. 31 October 1981: Attack

**October 31, 1981**

**Godric's Hollow**

Halloween night, the small, ill-fated family of four was in hiding in the cottage in Godric's Hollow.

James sat with the two infants in the living room, playing with them, making puffs of smoke erupt from the tip of his wand. It was getting late—almost time for the two infants to go to bed.

Lily came in, smiling at her husband and the two children. Bella may not have been their child, but they cared for her like she was. Both Lily and James loved her like one of their own.

Little Bella was about ten months older than Harry. They'd go to Hogwarts in the same year, Lily thought fondly, smiling, watching her family. She'd give her life to protect them all.

Bella stood wobbly, grinning up happily to the two who practically _were_ her parents. She had been looking around her curiously, when she glanced out the front window.

She saw the cloaked figure entering the gates, and, almost by instinct, knew to cry out.

Lily and James turned swiftly and looked out the window, dropping their wands in shock as they did. Without any hesitation, James scooped up the two children, giving them to his wife.

"Lily, take Harry and Bella and go!" he said, anguish and worry on his handsome face for his family. "It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off!"

The door exploded inwards, as Lily ran up the stairs, trying to save the two children in her arms.

She heard the cold laugh, and the malevolent yell, followed by the sound of someone falling to the floor limply. It sounded heavy and somehow final.

Stifling a sob as she entered the nursery, Lily carefully but quickly set the two infants own into a crib, turning and facing the door, standing in between it and her children as the door flew open.

Little Bella and Harry watched transfixed as the cloaked, malicious man entered the room.

Lily pleaded fruitlessly to save the infants' lives. In the end, Voldemort's response was "_Avada Kedavra!_"

The prodigious witch crumpled to the ground limp, her beautiful green eyes blank and unseeing.

Both of the two infants began to cry silently. Despite their incredibly young age, they knew something tragic had occurred. Both stood in the crib, grasping the bars for support, staring, transfixed at the cloaked figure.

The cloaked man lifted his wand and pointed it at the two infants. He said the spell.

The brilliant green light lit up the room, and the spell rebounded off the infants and hit the wizard. There was something like an explosion.

When the dust settled, it was shocking to see the damage to the Potter home. The man was gone—dead or alive, no one really knew at the time.

The right side of the cottage was blown apart—that was where the curse backfired, after all. The floor was intact in the nursery, fortunately. But the windows had been blasted and shattered, the multitude of splinters of glass scattered outside on the grass below. The ceiling had mostly caved in, as well as parts of the wall.

But the two infants had not been harmed—except, that is, two, strikingly similar bleeding cuts—Harry's on his forehead, Bella's on her neck, just off to the right. The cuts were not deep, nor did they hurt a lot. But the scars would never heal nor fade, even with magic.

The two infants sat there, in the crib, crying quietly for their mother and father.

And they would sit there, until a certain half-giant came to retrieve them…


	4. 1 November 1981: New Homes

**Privet Drive,**

**Little Whinging, Surrey**

On Privet Drive, an oddly dressed man and woman were speaking in hushed tones.

"…How are the two coming?" Professor McGonagall asked quietly.

"Hagrid is bringing them," Dumbledore replied serenely. As he spoke, a low rumbling noise had disturbed the quiet atmosphere. As the two looked, a huge motorcycle landed in front of them, the engine falling silent as Hagrid stepped off it. In this arm were two bundles of blankets—one baby blue, one pale pink.

"Hagrid," Dumbledore said, immensely relieved, "at last. And where did you get the motorcycle?"

"Young Sirius Black lent it to me, sir. I've got them, sir."

"No problems, then?"

"No, sir—house was almost destroyed, but I got 'em out alright. Harry fell asleep as we were flyin' over Bristol."

"And Isabella?" McGonagall asked, curiously, peering at the other blanket bundle.

As Hagrid held out the two bundles for them to see, he replied, "She's still awake."

In the blue blanket bundle, barely visible was a baby boy, fast asleep. Under an untidy tuft of black hair, there was a thin, curiously shaped cut, like a lightning bolt. Swaddled in the pink blanket was a pretty baby girl, slightly older than the other infant, wide awake. She had dark brown hair that was beginning curling into ringlets as it had grown. Deep, chocolate brown eyes were wide awake, taking in the two new people. Both Dumbledore and McGonagall internally noted how much she already looked like her birth mother, upon close inspection, even at this young age.

As she looked up at the strange two professors, they saw the girl had a remarkably similar cut to the boy's, but on her neck, just off center, on the right, beside her jungular vein.

"Is that where—?" McGonagall began, looking at the eerily analogous cuts, as Hagrid handed Harry to Dumbledore and Isabella to McGonagall.

"Yes," Dumbledore replied to his best, closest friend, (and secretly his wife). "They'll both have them forever."

"Albus," McGonagall started, holding the curious little girl, who was looking peacefully at the Transfiguration Mistress in vague recognition. That recognition was the recollection of realizing that she had seen the two professors once before, just as Lily and James Potter had decided to take her in, a memory she would have for all her life.

McGonagall thought of something. Harry's parents were key members of the exclusive and elusive Order of the Phoenix, just as Isabella was the daughter of two key members of the cold, cunning, lethal Death Eaters. Opposites, she thought.

"If Harry is going to the Dursleys, where shall Isabella go?"

Dumbledore sighed a bit sadly. "She has no family, save those in Azkaban or who soon shall be. Just as with Harry, she should grow up away from it all…"

**Wool's Orphanage, London**

Five minutes and a tearful goodbye later, the three adults were outside an old orphanage in London. Isabella was still in McGonagall's arms, albeit getting weary from the excitement.

"This is it?" McGonagall asked hesitantly, scrutinizing the orphanage carefully.

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, it is. It will be her home until she receives her Hogwarts letter."

Little Isabella suddenly yawned sleepily, snuggling down into the warm blankets, shielding herself from the early November wind.

But the infant still was staring up at the three people, before she suddenly spouted a few words that her surrogate mother had called the people. "…Awbus…Minervwa….Hagwid…"

She yawned again, and serenely sank into the blissful blanket of sleep.

McGonagall smiled softly. Despite the tragedy that had ripped the Potter family apart, she truly hoped that both Harry and Isabella would meet and become good friends.

"Good luck, Isabella," Dumbledore said quietly, as McGonagall set the now-famous, sleeping infant down on the doorstep of the orphanage gently.

"Goodbye, Bella," McGonagall whispered, sadly.

It wasn't really "goodbye", she reminded herself, just..."see you later".

But even still, her eyes were damp with a few tears she would not allow to fall. They were tears for James and Lily, two of her favorite students of all time, tears for all the victims of Lord Voldemort, and tears for the two children who would grow up without their parents—one's dead and the others such terrible people the world would be better off without them in it.

But little Bella slept on, in the warm blankets, her small hand wrapped around a corner of the envelope that had been set beside her. She slept on, like the small boy that was her adoptive brother far away in Surrey, both not knowing that, all over England, people were all raising their goblets in a toast and cheering "To Harry Potter and Isabella Swan, the Boy and Girl Who Lived!"


	5. August 1991: The Letter

**I'm in a good mood today---duh, its my birthday, so of course I'm in a good mood--but anyways.**

** For my birthday, I'm giving YOU a new chapter!!!! Yay!!! Happy dance!!! **

**From here on out, the chapters should be longer!!**

**ON WITH THE STORY....  
**

**~August 1991~**

**Wool's Orphanage, London**

I hated staying at Wool's Orphanage, which I'd been living at since I was almost two years old. I hated it--with an ever-burning passion.

I was always alone. None of the other children liked me. I wasn't like them. While they were playing, I was reading or studying.

The elderly matron was mildly abusive towards me. I had a half-healed bruise on my cheek from last week.

Odd incidents always happened around me. Not like people get hurt, but still, weird. Whenever I was near a snake, I could somehow understand it. Once, one of the older girls had practically made me bald. After I fell asleep crying in humiliation and indignation, I found that my brown hair had grown back overnight and was to my waist—when it had only been just past my shoulders before. Once, the matron, Mrs. Cole, had been about to beat me for not cleaning my closet of a room, but when she looked in my room, it was suddenly spotless, everything perfectly in place. I'd been in only minutes before. Once, when I was feeling a bit happy, I'd planted some wild flowers in my old window box. As soon as I watered it, the colorful plants sprouted and bloomed before my eyes.

It all scared me a bit, but I was more intrigued than afraid. I could not explain it.

Anyways, I was eleven. It was late August. My birthday was in September. I had been working on cleaning the kitchen, so I had my cleaning apron on, when there was a knock on the front door to the orphanage.

Quickly as I could, I went to it and opened it.

A tall, rather dignified woman with black hair, emerald eyes, and a somewhat stern, somewhat kind expression stood in the doorway. "Good afternoon," she said, with a slight Scottish lilt in her voice, "I have an appointment with Mrs. Cole, the matron here."

"Of course," I replied politely. "Come in. I'll go find her for you."

I hurried past the woman to Mrs. Cole's office. I knocked and said, "Mrs. Cole, a woman is here to see you."

Mrs. Cole hurried out into the hall where the woman was.

"Hello," Mrs. Cole greeted. "I'm Mrs. Cole, and you are…?"

"Minerva McGonagall," the woman replied. _Odd name_, I thought, _but unique and somehow…fitting._ "I sent you a letter, requesting an appointment about a child you care for here, Isabella Swan." My ears perked, curious.

"Ah, yes. Right this way, Ms. McGonagall." She lead the woman—Minerva McGonagall—to her office, but not before sending me a sharp glance. The door closed behind them.

I hated to eavesdrop, but I had to. They were talking about me, after all! Carefully, I stood outside the door, listening attentively.

"Are you related to Isabella, family?" Mrs. Cole asked.

"No. I am a teacher, and I've come to offer Isabella a place at my school."

"What school?" Mrs. Cole asked curiously. "And, why her?"

"It is called Hogwarts"—Odd name, I thought offhandedly—"and her name has been down on the list since she was born. Her parents arranged it before they…passed away." The woman hesitated, then asked, "Can you tell me a bit about Isabella?"

"'Course I can. She was left on our doorstep in early November of 1981. All there was left with her was a letter. I was the one who found her there."

Mrs. Cole hesitated, then cautiously asked, "Nothing I say will change the fact that she'll go to your school, will it?"

"Nothing."

"Good then. Oddest baby I'd ever met. Hardly ever socialized with the other children. Very mature, very quiet. It was suspicious at her early age, but I'm used to it. Then, odd things are always happening near her."

"Such as…?"

"Oh, just…just little things. Nothing, nothing…I suppose you'd like to see her?"

I ran to my room and sat on my little cot, reading a book, as if I'd been here all along.

"Isabella?" I looked up at the sound of Mrs. Cole's voice. "You have a visitor." The woman came into the room, and Mrs. Cole closed the door behind the visitor.

"How do you do, Isabella?" the woman asked, offering her hand, which I shook.

"I am Professor McGonagall," the woman introduced herself.

"Just Bella, please. You teach?" I asked quietly, curiously. I'd always had a respect for the profession. It must be wonderful, teaching a new generation knowledge that would carry them on for the rest of their lives, but also very pressured because of that.

The Professor nodded. "I do, at a school called Hogwarts. I've come to offer you a place at my school."

"Why me?" I squeaked timidly.

She smiled reassuringly. "Have you ever made something happen, something can't explain, when you were angry or scared?"

Immediately, I thought of all the odd incidents. "…Yes, actually." I admitted. "Quite often. Once, one of the elder girls cut most of my hair off, making me look almost bald. When I woke up afterwards, it had grown back and was longer than before. Another time, some wildflowers I planted bloomed before my eyes..."

She smiled knowingly. "Hogwarts is a school of magic."

My eyebrows shot up disbelievingly. I said nothing, still thinking. Was it possible…?

Eventually, I gained my voice back. "…Really?"

She chuckled, but stood. Then, in the blink of an eye, she wasn't there. A familiar tabby cat with peculiar markings around its eyes was there instead, looking at me with knowing eyes.

Why was the tabby cat so familiar?

Then I realized it. I had seen the very same cat several times in my childhood and recent years, every few months, watching me, as if…checking that I was okay.

"Okay, I believe you." I said.

Then the cat was a woman once more. "Good. Here you are," She pulled out an envelope from a pocket and gave it to me.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL_

_of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_-----_

_Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_

_Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_ Dear Miss Swan,_

_ We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_ Term begins on September 1__st__. We await your owl by no later than July 31__st__._

_ Yours sincerely,_

_ Minerva McGonagall,_

_ Deputy Headmistress_

"Really?" I asked excitedly, looking up. "I get to leave the orphanage?"

"Yes."

"Thank you!" I exclaimed, jumping up from my seat and hugging the woman gratefully.

She blinked, looking very surprised, but smiled softly and nodded.

"I have a question," I asked, a minute later.

"Yes?"

"All the odd things. Moving things without touching them. Making good things happen near me. Making it rain when I'm sad or I want it to—practically affecting the weather…Is all that normal?"

She blinked once before replying, "Most children's powers are not as…controlled as yours, but yes. They are."

I hesitated, then timidly asked, "I can speak to snakes, too. They find me. Whisper things…And…it frightens me. Is_ that_ normal?"

Her green eyes had widened, her eyebrows shot up. "Rare," she eventually replied. "But not unheard of."

"Is it a bad thing?" I asked timorously.

The woman—soon to be my teacher—looked at me for a long moment before replying, "Usually it is related with Dark Magic, although it is not. But I would not mention it to anyone but your closest friends at Hogwarts."

"Yes, ma'am," I said, nodding unquestioningly. "I will keep it to myself."

She nodded. "Very good; I will retrieve you in two days, August twenty-ninth, so you might buy your schoolbooks and required equipment. I believe I can find you a place for you to stay after that until the start of term, so you needn't return here."

My face broke out into a smile. "Thank you…Professor."

She nodded kindly. "You're very welcome…Bella. I will see you in two days."

**XXX**

**Headmaster's Office,**

**Hogwarts**

As Minerva McGonagall walked down the empty corridor, she sighed to herself. Summer holidays were so quiet and tedious, as the students were all at home still. That wouldn't last too long. Only a few days were left until the start of term.

The only people in the castle that moment were the Professors, who were preparing themselves—working on lesson plans, cleaning out their classrooms, and telling Muggleborn students or magical students raised by Muggles, in the cases of Harry Potter and Isabella Swan.

Minerva knocked once on the door to the Headmaster's office before entering.

Her husband, Albus Dumbledore, was at his desk, working on some paperwork. "Ah, Minerva," he said, standing. "How did it go?"

The witch sighed, still shocked from what Isabella Swan had revealed to her.

"Good, I suppose. Isabella—Bella, as she preferred—" she corrected herself "—was very…polite, but timid. She was delighted that she'll be leaving that orphanage. Nasty place, that orphanage. I'd bet it is older than the either of us…"

"What orphanage is it, again?"

Minerva hesitated, but replied, "Wool's Orphanage, remember? The very one that Tom Riddle grew up in—the very room as well! And then…" The elderly witch faltered for a moment, then drew her wand and extracted the memory of the young girl she'd met only hours ago—more importantly, of a certain few words she'd said—and dropped the silvery strand of memory into the nearby pensieve.

She prodded the surface of the odd substance with her wand.

The slowly revolving figure of a young, small, thin, timid-looking girl, strikingly similar to her mother at the same age, with mahogany hair and wearing an apron over her clothes rose from the pensieve and spoke, "…All the odd things. Moving things without touching them. Making good things happen near me. Making it rain when I'm sad or I want it to….Is all that normal? ... I can speak to snakes, too. They find me. Whisper things…And…it frightens me…"

The girl shrank back into the pensieve.

"A Parseltongue?" Albus murmured, his eyebrows raised. "Curious coincidences, wouldn't you say, m'dear?"

His wife only sighed. "Very"

He nodded, deep in thought. "It is as I expected: she is very, very powerful, already. I expect we'll have a little protegee soon." He paused, "I wonder which of her parents she will take after..."

"In magic or appearance?"

"Both," he admitted. "Though I think she has her mother's genes for appearance....but it is a mystery from whom she received such obvious magical power and talent...but anyways. What did you think of her?"

"I think I was right about leaving the poor girl in that dreadful place. She was miserable. Thin, almost unhealthy. Terrible, really. Just terrible." The Transfiguration professor suddenly chuckled a bit. "You should have seen her when I told her that she would really be leaving that place and that I'd try to find her a place to stay after I take her to Diagon Alley."

The Headmaster joined his Deputy in quiet laughter. "Where would she stay, Min?"

"Maybe dear Molly would allow her to stay for a day…" She replied thoughtfully.


	6. August 1991: Diagon Alley

**August 31, 1991**

**Wool's Orphanage**

Those two days were very impatient and slow for me. I couldn't wait to go to this school, Hogwarts. I couldn't wait to meet my classmates—to meet friends.

But, finally, it was August twenty-ninth. I wasn't wearing my normal apron; instead I had donned a clean pair of jeans and a shirt. My face normally had a thin layer of dirt upon it, because of my daily chores, but was clean today. My hair was tied back from my face.

The woman—Professor McGonagall—picked me up then, near 9'o'clock.

Because I knew I'd not be coming back for a long while, I had brought along my knapsack, which I'd put what I wanted to bring in it: another set of clothes for tomorrow, the letter and the list that'd been included for what I would need to buy, and a few of my favorite books. I didn't care much for the rest of my possessions. So, we set out, walking along the deserted street. Once the Orphanage was out of sight, the professor paused, looking around to see if we were alone.

"Hold my forearm, Miss Swan," she said. I complied. "We will Apparate to the place where we can get your school supplies. Hold on. It may be uncomfortable." I nodded, then I felt the odd sensation that felt like being squeezed through a tight rubber tube, and all the air rushed from my lungs.

Then, it ended, I gasped for air. I felt nauseous, like I was slightly green, although I doubted I really was. "The feeling does take some getting used to," McGonagall said from beside me. "But you're doing better than most on their first time."

"How so?" I asked vaguely.

"Most vomit."

"Pleasant," I muttered weakly, trying to regain my poise.

"Do you want to wait a moment?" she asked. I shook my head.

"No. I'm fine." I looked around. We were right in front of a grubby looking pub that no one else seemed to give another thought as they strode by. No one seemed to have noticed two people pop up from nowhere either.

"Come along, Bella." McGonagall said. I turned and saw she was already heading inside the little pub, which a sign dubbed The Leaky Cauldron. Curious, I followed the woman into the pub. It wasn't crowded, but it wasn't exactly empty, either. The chatter quieted a bit when McGonagall entered. Several waved to her in greeting. She nodded in reply.

"Ah, Professor McGonagall!" the barman greeted. "Anything I can help you with?"

"No, Hogwarts business, Tom. Thank you though." She replied.

He looked to me, and his eyes went wide suddenly. "Good Lord." He gasped, a bit loudly. "Isabella Swan, isn't it? What an honor…"

My cheeks flushed with color. An honor to meet me? What…?

He hurried from behind the counter towards us and shook my hand, to my confusion. "Welcome back, Miss Swan, welcome back!" Apparently, the others in the pub heard and fell silent, looking at me.

I suddenly found myself shaking hands with nearly everyone in the pub, much to my confusion. After a few awkward minutes of shaking random strangers' hands, McGonagall managed to get me away from the crowd though the bar to a small, walled courtyard.

"Do they greet everyone like that?" I asked, still confused. My guide gave what I presumed to be a rare smile and explained. "I guess I should have explained earlier. I apologize for that. You see, you are quite famous in the wizard world."

"Really?" I asked incredulously. "What for?" She looked at me for a long moment, then sighed. "I suppose I'd better tell you now rather than later. It all started with one wizard, a very dark, very powerful wizard. Well, about ten years ago, that wizard was at large. Very evil, very cruel, who killed and tortured so many, it is impossible to know the exact death toll. Most are still afraid to even say the name…"

"What's the name?" I asked. Hesitantly, she whispered, "Lord V-Voldemort. Now, don't go around saying the name. Very few people say it even now.

"Anyways, those were very dark times, back then. You could hardly trust anyone. He killed so many…some of the most powerful witches and wizards of the day, too…" She paused, looking aggrieved, but continued, "Hogwarts was—and still is—one of the safest places. Dumbledore, the Headmaster, is the only one You-Know-Who ever feared, so it goes. He didn't dare attack Hogwarts with Dumbledore there. He had a large group of loyal followers, called Death Eaters. Two of the most loyal and devoted were Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange—both very powerful people without anything resembling a conscience. They had a child about eleven years ago, and several of us, their enemies, went and rescued the infant. Two of the child's rescuers were James and Lily Potter. They were going into hiding, because, well, You-Know-Who was after them. They had a son named Harry Potter. They also took the child in. That child is you."

"Me?" I gasped, incredulously. Great. I finally discover who my parents are, and they end up being evil maniacs! She nodded. "Yes. You. The Potters wanted to protect you, and took you with them when they went into hiding. Unfortunately, You-Know-Who found them, on Halloween ten years ago, and killed both James and Lily Potter. He also tried to kill Harry and you. No one knows what happened that night.

"You know that scar you have here?" she said, pointing to the scar I'd had ever since I could remember on the right side of neck. "That isn't an ordinary cut. You got that from where a very evil curse touched you. The Killing Curse.

"But the thing is, no one ever lives after You-Know-Who decides to kill them, except you and Harry Potter. Two infants.

"That is why both you and Harry are famous. Because, that night, You-Know-Who vanished. Most believe him gone, but he's out there somewhere, waiting for revenge. That night, you and Harry survived. That is why you're famous. That's why everyone knows your name."

"Wow. Um, what about Harry?" McGonagall smiled. "You'll meet him at Hogwarts. He will be in your year."

"What happened to my parents?" I asked.

"They are currently in a wizard prison, called Azkaban. Also, your name is Isabella Swan, not Isabella Lestrange, as it was when you were born, because Dumbledore and the others who rescued you changed your name legally. It isn't fair for you to be judged by your parentage. Very few know your true parents. For now, you must pretend that you are Muggleborn—a Muggle is a non magical person, by the way. You will find that some families are what people call _pureblood_." She spat the word bitterly. "They claim to only be descended from wizards. Most of them are prejudiced against Muggles and Muggleborns, just a warning. Not all, but most."

"Are my parents pureblooded?" I asked hesitantly, but I already knew the answer.

"Yes. I taught them, years ago. Both families flaunted the fact." She sighed exasperatedly, but looked to me kindly. "But I am glad you got away from all that. You are nothing like them. Although, you look quite a bit like your mother, except you have lighter hair and eyes, and slightly different features, a bit softer, you could say.

"Are you ready to buy your things?" I nodded. She smiled and pulled out her wand, then tapped it on a brick in the wall. "Above the trash can, three up, two across," She told me, as I let my hair down, trying to avoid people seeing the scar and recognize me. Then, a gap grew in the wall, growing until it was a walkway.

"Whoa," I breathed.

"Welcome to Diagon Alley," she said, stepping through the walkway. I followed, and I noticed that, after I stepped through, the entrance shrunk back so it was a plain wall. "One moment," she said pausing as she waved her wand, pointed at herself. Instantly, the normal clothes she'd had on changed to emerald robes. A pointed hat with a single feather stuck in the top was now on her head. I can't wait until I learn to do that.

"Come along, Bella. We need to get your money, first." She told me, leading me through the streets as I stared in awe at the shops. I looked to her. "I have money?" "Of course. As your parents are in Azkaban, you legally have access to their money." She explained. "In the Wizarding World, there is one bank. Gringotts. Your parents have their own vault."

She told me about Hogwarts as we walked. There were four Houses in Hogwarts: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. She was the Head of Gryffindor House, home of the brave and chivalrous. The lion on the Hogwarts crest was Gryffindor's insignia. The badger represented Hufflepuff, where hard work and loyalty was valued. Intelligence and wit were prized by Ravenclaw, which was represented by an eagle. Lastly was Slytherin, the House of ambition and cunning, the serpent, and also the House of pretty much all my family, save maybe three people. I groaned. I didn't like the sound of that. But McGonagall said that, judging by what she could tell, she thought I'd either be in Ravenclaw, because of my clever, inquisitive nature, or Gryffindor. I smiled brightly when she said this. Both sounded good, although I think I'd like Gryffindor better. As she spoke she led me towards a snowy white building with bronze doors. Picking up her pace, she led me in the doors. On the doors, however, I noticed an inscription:

_Enter, stranger, but take heed__  
Of what awaits the sin of greed  
For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn._

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware,  
Of finding more than treasure there._

Inside, about a hundred little, creepy goblins sat on tall stools behind a long counter, writing with quills. McGonagall went to a free goblin, slightly away from any other goblin with a customer. "Good morning," she said, drawing the goblin's attention away from his writing.

His black eyes went directly to me. "Ah, Miss Lestrange." He said, and I stiffened. How did he know? "Come to withdraw gold from your family's vault?"

"Yes, she is," McGonagall replied for me. She took out a small golden key from her pocket. "The key," she said, giving it to the goblin, who examined it carefully. "Very well. I shall need the Clankers!" He barked to another, younger goblin. The goblin grabbed what appeared to be a leather bag full of what sounded like metal and gave it to his superior.

"This way," the goblin said, motioning to a side hallway. McGonagall and I followed. After a few minutes, we were in a small cart on tracks, hurtling through darkness and labyrinthine passages at a sickening speed. I had a feeling we were far, far underground. Then it slowed to a halt, right in front of a gigantic, ferocious dragon that appeared to be blind. My eyes were huge. The goblin pulled out small silver instruments from the leather bag and shook them, creating loud ringing noises. The dragon retreated again from several large stone doors in the wall.

"It is moderately blind, and even more savage for that. It has learned to retreat upon hearing the Clankers." The goblin explained, exiting the little cart. McGonagall and I followed. Going to one of the doors, the goblin laid his palm on the door. Immediately, it melted away, revealing a cavelike opening crammed full of gold coins, bejeweled goblets, silver armor, odd skins of strange creatures, and many other things. My jaw dropped.

"This is mine?" I squeaked.

"As your parents are incarcerated, yes, it is all yours." The goblin told me, waiting outside the vault while McGonagall and I stepped into the vault.

"The gold coins are Galleons, the silver Sickles, and the bronze Knuts." She said. She pulled a leather bag out of my robe pocket about the size of my hand. "Here, use this." When I reached down to fill the bag and touched one of the gold Galleons, it burned red hot and, as I dropped it, it multiplied into twenty coins.

I gave a yelp of surprise. "It burned me!" "Don't touch anything else!" she exclaimed, hardly moving as her hand was precariously close to a pile of gold.

"They must have put in the Gemino and Flagrante Curses," the goblin said. "We never add them. Mrs. and Mr. Lestrange must have cast them…" Carefully, McGonagall drew her wand and brandished it muttering quickly in what sounded like Latin or Greek.

Slowly, she inched toward a pile of gold and picked one up. Nothing happened.

"It is gone." She said, putting away her wand. Still a bit careful, I filled the leather pouch with gold. As I straightened to exit the vault, something caught my eye. It was a golden cup with two finely wrought handles and a badger engraved on the face. "Professor, didn't you say that the symbol of Hufflepuff was a badger?" I asked.

She looked at me oddly. "Yes. Why do you ask?" I pointed to the cup. "It has the symbol of Hufflepuff on it." Drawing her wand again, she pointed it at the cup with her wand. "_Accio!_"

**(A/N: Yes, I know it didn't work in cannon, abut McGonagall is a lot more powerful and experienced that Hermione, don't you think? And McGonagall cast a complex spell that got rid of all the spells in the vault. If you aren't happy about it, build a bridge and get over it. K?) **

The cup soared through the air towards up. I jumped in time to catch it.

"Then what's it doing in here if my family was all in Slytherin?" I murmured, examining it carefully. "It looks very old. An heirloom, perhaps? Or an even older relic?" As I examined it, I saw an engraving at the lip of the cup. Holding it closer to my eyes, I saw it was a name engraved upon it. "Ever heard of someone named Helga Hufflepuff?" I asked. McGonagall's eyebrows shot up. "The founder of Hufflepuff."

"It has her name on it." I said, showing the professor. "I think some member of my family must have stolen it."

"I agree," she said, examining it herself. I said, "I think we should return it to Hufflepuff House. Or at least give it to Dumbledore later." She nodded, handing it back to me. "Yes. You can give it to him later. As for now, hide it from anyone. They will wonder how a Muggleborn got one of the lost relics of the Founders. Have you got enough gold?" I held up the filled bag. "All gold, all full. Yep." She nodded. "Good. We'll leave now."

Thirty minutes later, we'd left Gringotts and already bought my school robes, plenty of parchment, quills, and ink. She had also explained to me about Quidditch. Curious, I had also asked, "Do you think I'll be any good?" She'd thought about it for a moment, then replied, "Your father was an excellent player back when he was a student. Your mother didn't play. So, if you take after your father, then I think so." I paid for potion ingredients, glass phials, brass scales, a telescope, and a cauldron, and only had my books and wand to get. A spring in my step, I walked into the bookshop, Flourish and Blotts. I loved books and reading. I gasped in delight as I surveyed the books, and stared around at all of them in awe. Browsing all the books in the shop, I grabbed nearly every book and perused them each, awed. Taking my time, I grabbed the ones on my list and several others. "You go get your wand, Bella," she told me, nudging me towards the door. "I need to buy a few things."

I stepped into the slightly dusty, shabby shop: Ollivander's Wand Shop.

"Hello?" I called out a bit loudly, into the seemingly empty shop.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. I jumped. An old man—who I presumed to be Mr. Ollivander—stood behind the counter, near the shelves.

"I was wondering when I'd see you, Isabella Lestrange, or is it Swan?" he said.

"Um, just Bella, and I go by Swan." I said quietly. How many people could tell?

He nodded. "I do not blame you. Hm, you look very much like your mother, although lighter hair and less...angular features…" He paused. "It seems like just yesterday she and your father were buying their wands, before they joined the Dark Lord, that is.

"Your mother favored a walnut wand, twelve and three quarters inches long, dragon heartstring core. Quite a temperamental wand, it was, and particularly unyielding. Or, I should say, it favored her. Wands chose the witch or wizard you see.

"Your father had similar wand. Thirteen and a quarter inches, cypress wood, steadfast, unwavering, with a unicorn tail hair core.

He stared at me with his pale eyes for a long moment, looking at my scar.

"Very sorry to say I sold the wand that did that. Yew. Thirteen and a half inches long. Powerful, especially so in the wrong hands, as it was. If I'd known…" He sighed, before going to the shelves.

He stopped as he reached for one box, glancing at me piercingly. "I wonder…" He went to the back of the shop, grabbing a lone box off a top shelf.

"Try this wand," he said, offering it to me. "Birch and Phoenix feather. Twelve and three fourths inches. Unwavering. Obstinate, a bit like your mother's. Especially powerful, much like one of its brother, but much, much more potent…"

Carefully, I picked it up and immediately felt a sudden, pleasant warmth in my hand. I waved the wand a bit hesitantly, and brilliant golden sparks flew from the tip.

"Oh-ho!" Ollivander said, staring at the wand. "I thought so…but even still, curious. Very curious…"

"What is?" I asked.

His silver eyes pierced me as he said, "As I told Mister Potter earlier this summer, I remember every wand I've ever sold. Every wand has a different core. Sometimes, a phoenix feather or unicorn hair will come from the same creature. Those wands share a special connection.

"The phoenix from whom your wand core comes from only gave two other feathers, which are in Mister Potter's wand and the wand that gave you and him those scars."

"Voldemort's?" I confirmed.

"We do not speak his name…but yes. The Dark Lord. Curious the way these things happen. I believe we can all expect great things from you, Miss Swan, as well as Mister Harry Potter. Great things …" As he spoke, I paid him the seven Galleons.

"Um, thank you, Mr. Ollivander." I said, heading to the door. "And, um, if you could…"

"Not tell anyone about your parents?" he supplied. "Of course I won't. Good luck this year, Miss Swan…you may need it." He waved to me as I went to the door, hurrying to write something down.

At that, I exited the shop and rejoined McGonagall.

**(A/N: Here's a bit of behind-the-scenes stuff for ya. **

**Yew, as Voldemort's wand is made of, is a symbol of immortality in some beliefs, which is suiting because the Dark Lord wished to obtain immortality, and the yew tree's sap is poisonous, fitting for such a poisoned, deadly soul. **

**Holly, as in Harry's wand. According to European tradition, holly repels evil, and represents protection, leadership, and overcoming great obstacles. Fitting, no?**

**For Bella, birch is in her wand, which is associated with new beginnings and cleansing of the past. Very suitable, knowing her distant past and parentage, and how she changed her name, don't you think?)**

"Have you got everything, Bella?" she asked, looking at my wand.

I held it up proudly. "Now I do."

She nodded, smiling a small smile. "Good. Take my forearm again."

I complied and almost immediately felt the odd sensation again…then we were somewhere else.

We were in front of an odd little house that had four or five chimneys and several crooked stories added to it that appeared to be held up by magic. The house looked amazing. Homey.

"Whoa…" I gasped in awe. It was the best house I'd ever seen.

"Come now, Bella." McGonagall beckoned, heading towards the door.

I hurried after her, focusing so my mind would not wander again.

McGonagall knocked thrice on the door, and, after a moment, the door opened revealing a short, slightly plump, kind looking redheaded woman.

"Hello, Professor McGonagall," the woman greeted, smiling.

"Hello, Molly, dear," McGonagall said, smiling to the motherly woman.

Then the red-haired woman spotted me, partially hidden behind the professor and greeted, "Why, hello, dear! Who might you be?"

"Hello," I spoke quietly, shyly. "I'm Bella."

A girl's voice spoke up from inside the house. "Mum? Who's at the door?"

The woman turned back to the speaker and replied, "Didn't I tell you and your brothers that we had guests coming over, Ginny?"The woman looked back to McGonagall and me and said, "Oh, come in, come in!"

I followed McGonagall inside the cozy home. It was a wonderful home, to me. A small red-haired girl about my age, maybe a bit younger, stood on the stairs, studying me a bit.

"Again, I can't thank you enough for this, Molly," McGonagall said. "Especially since you have the five of them too…"

"Oh, it's no problem, Professor," the woman replied, smiling. "The more the merrier! I know you and the rest of the staff are busy! It isn't a problem at all!"

After the professor said goodbye to the woman and bid me good luck, she disappeared, leaving me with my trunk, already packed for Hogwarts, with the family. By then, several red-haired boys had come downstairs following their sister and looked at me, curious.

I smiled timidly to the family members. "Hello," I said quietly.

The woman smiled maternally. "Hello, dear. I'm Mrs. Weasley. It's a pleasure to meet you…Bella, right?"

I nodded. "Yes, ma'am. Bella Swan. Pleasure to make your acquaintance as well."

The five children's eyes widened in shock, and I flushed, realizing my mistake. If I didn't want more stares like that, I shouldn't announce my name like that. A stupid, foolish mistake. But it would be my last of the nature. I'd be more careful.

"Really?" one of the tall, red-haired twins asked. "Do you remember what You-Know-Who looks like?"

The tension vanished immediately.

"Fred!" the woman—Mrs. Weasley—scolded immediately.

I couldn't help but giggle at the question. "No, sorry, I don't." I replied, smiling, feeling much more comfortable.

They introduced themselves. The youngest—the girl, Ginny—was a year younger than me and would be starting Hogwarts next year. Next was Ron, a freckled boy that would be starting Hogwarts this year. Then there were the third year mischievous twins—Fred and George. Lastly was Percy, the ambitious, serious, pompous fifth year. There were two other siblings—Charlie and Bill—but they'd already graduated and moved away. Mr. Weasley was currently at work in the Ministry of Magic.

During my one day stay, I really fell in with the Weasleys. I had found a place where I was happy and welcomed. Ginny was friendly and quickly a friend. I resolved to write her once I left for Hogwarts. Ron had decided to teach me about Quidditch and—during my twenty-four hour stay, I learned a lot about them. The twins were genuinely hilarious. They lived off of pranks and jokes. Percy was the academic of the family, preferring to stay in his room and study.

Meanwhile, after Ron had taught me about Quidditch and Ginny had left to stop the twins from stealing and jinxing her stuff, I had time alone.

I'd always had wonderful memorization skills. And I used them as I perused each and every one of my books, entranced by the world of possibilities and magic.


	7. 1 September 1991: The Sorting Hat

**September 1, 1991 **

**Great Hall, Hogwarts **

I was constantly biting my lip as I, along with the other first years, followed McGonagall through the large double doors into the Great Hall and towards the front of the hall. No one had really wanted to be in the front, all too nervous and timid to be first. They'd all been pushing the ones closest to them forward. I somehow ended up in the very front. Once again, my wonderful luck was showing. Anxiety was rolling in my stomach as I listened to the Sorting Hat sing, and then Professor McGonagall calling out names… I watched Hermione, Neville, and Harry be Sorted into Gryffindor, and Malfoy into Slytherin, among others, and I could not stop biting my lip. What if I was in a different house than my friends? Then it was my name she called: "Swan, Isabella."

Murmurs broke out among the crowd of first years, the elder students, and the professors. My cheeks were red, but I timidly walked up to the front and sat on the stool.

As I did, I took note of everyone's reaction to my name being called. All the students were craning for a look at me, like I was an animal in a zoo. The professors were murmuring amongst themselves, straightening to attention. Professor Dumbledore, I saw, leaned forward a bit, his bright blue eyes watching me intently, curiously.

The stern but kind professor set the hat on my head and I heard a small voice speaking in my ear.

"Hm, a Lestrange, eh?" The hat said in my ear, too quiet for anyone else to hear, except McGonagall, but if she heard she gave no indication of it.

I stiffened instantly. "All your family has been in Slytherin, you know. But you…difficult and very, very interesting…A very good mind—already full of knowledge about the wizarding world—and you haven't even known about it for a week!" It paused, chuckling. "Quite a thirst for knowledge, I see, and a reasonably deep need to prove yourself…Very ambitious, cunning, and clever. Sharp wit and tongue. Bit of a quick temper, I see. And extraordinarily brave, too. Awfully loyal, as well…But where to put you?" It chuckled again. 

_Just not Slytherin_, I thought. It chuckled harder in reply. " 'Not Slytherin', eh? You would fit in very well, you know. Old Salazar would have loved you…And your entire family—excluding that Nymphadora Tonks and Sirius Black—has been there…"

"No," I whispered stubbornly, adamantly, just loud enough for it to hear. "I'm nothing like them at all. I'm not like my parents at all." Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw McGonagall look at me confusedly—she must have heard my quiet declaration. Again, it chuckled. "Is that so…hm. Then it'd better be Gryffindor or Ravenclaw…But then again, you are quite intrepid, I see. Let's go with—GRYFFINDOR!"

I let out the breath I'd been holding in, as the entire hall applauded and the Gryffindor table erupted into cheers. As I removed the Sorting Hat, I saw McGonagall give me a small, almost imperceptible proud, congratulatory smile. I returned it brightly, delighted, before nearly skipping to the cheering Gryffindor table. I seated myself beside Hermione, across from Harry. "Took its time for you, didn't it?" Percy Weasley noted from Hermione's other side. Sheepishly, I nodded; my face still red from the loud cheers from my new House-mates. I felt as if I had truly found my genuine home here—like it was where I belonged.

**A/N: This is the 2nd chapter I've posted today. Because its rather short, I'll post another.**

**Happy Christmas! And a happy New Year, too!  
**


	8. 31 October 1991: Halloween

**October 31, 1991**

**Hogwarts**

I was _still_ reveling in the fact that I was here by Halloween. I truly enjoyed it—no, I take that back—I _loved _it. I hated that the days seemed to fly by, and I didn't even mind the homework—in fact, I rather enjoyed it. I loved learning about this world of mine. It was where I belonged, and I wanted to know everything about it.

I had made several friends in Gryffindor—Harry, Ron, Fred and George, and Hermione. I think I was Hermione's only friend, really. But we were best friends—she loved Hogwarts as much as I.

During Charms class, Professor Flitwick announced we'd be attempting to levitate objects. Hermione and I had been the first to successfully perform the spell, each receiving five points for it.

As we were leaving, trying to navigate through the teeming halls, we were discussing the lesson.

"Oh please, Bella," she said. "Your feather was soaring through the air with ease and grace! Mine was wobbling unsteadily the entire time—"

Her voice halted dead in her throat as she heard Ronald Weasley—who'd been walking with Harry beside him in front of us—'s voice. "…I'm telling you, Harry, it's no wonder no one can stand her! She's a nightmare, honestly!"

I saw tears well in my best friend's eyes. Before I could deny Ron's words, Hermione muttered an excuse and rushed past the two, not bothering to say 'excuse me'. I didn't blame her.

"I think she heard you," Harry said to Ron.

"She bloody well did," I said vehemently to them, glaring furiously to Ron.

"So?" he said stupidly. "She must have noticed no one is her friend!"

I huffed. "Thank you for calling me no one, _Ronald_." I muttered sarcastically, but then said in a cold, less than friendly voice, "She just happens to be my best friend!"

As much as I hated to sit near Ron, I sat beside Harry, near the red-haired dimwit.

While we were beginning to eat the Halloween feast, I heard Parvati Patil tell Lavender Brown that Hermione was in the girl's lavatory, crying. At least Harry looked sympathetic, whereas Ron was still stuffing food into his mouth. I huffed, setting down my fork and knife.

"I'm going to find Hermione." I stood to leave the Great Hall, but I almost ran into Quirrel, who had come sprinting in, the doors banging loudly behind him—his turban crooked and terror on his face. The room fell silent at his appearance and terror.

When he reached the head table, he managed to gasp, "Troll—in the dungeons—thought you should know—" He collapsed in a dead faint before he could finish his statement. Chaos erupted, and I was rooted to the spot, shocked. When Dumbledore ordered Prefects to lead the students back to the common rooms, I separated myself from the group subtly. Hermione didn't know—I needed to find her anyways. Harry and Ron noticed, naturally and decided to come along, after I'd explained to them.

As we approached the lavatory, a terrible stench assaulted my nose. It came from the lavatory and was not from a human, I knew as much.

"The troll!" I gasped. Without a second's hesitation, I ran into the lavatory, Harry and Ron reluctantly trailing behind me.

Indeed, it was troll. It was twelve feet tall, at least, and brandished a huge club, which I was using to destroy the sinks in the bathroom. Hermione was cowering in the corner, trying to remain unsuccessfully unnoticed.

"Hermione!" I yelled as she narrowly ducked the swinging club.

I dived towards Hermione. Behind me, Ron yelled to the troll, trying to distract it, as he threw a metal pipe at his head.

Harry lunged at the troll and was hanging on the troll's back as he stuck his wand up the troll's nose. Ew… The troll was still fighting Harry and Ron's efforts, its club swinging wildly about, narrowly missing Hermione's and my heads. Our startled screams echoed in the bathroom, slightly drowned out by the sound of water pouring from bursting pipes, thanks to the troll.

As Ron used a successful levitation charm on the club, I brandished my wand, yelling a spell I'd never tried before, only read about: "_Incarcerous!_"

Thick ropes were conjured from mid-air and tied the troll up. Ron made the club drop on the troll's head, effectively knocking it out cold.

I helped Hermione up.

The only sounds were our heavy, labored breathing and the water spilling from the pipes.

I stifled a small, breathless, exhausted laugh as Harry pulled his wand from the troll's nose and wiped its bogeys on its trousers. There was a slam and several sets of footsteps.

Then, Professors McGonagall, Snape, and Quirrel burst into the room, but then each froze, taking in the scene. McGonagall's green eyes flicked from Hermione and me, to Harry and Ron, to the unconscious troll, and around the destroyed bathroom, her face paler and her lips thinner than I'd ever seen. I gulped. Quirrel, already pale with terror, took one glance at the troll and whimpered, leaning on the wall for support. Wimp…

Snape looked emotionless as per norm, although much paler than normal—and it wasn't like he paled in shock. No, it was more like he'd lost blood. But he bent over the troll, looking at it to see if it was dead or unconscious.

McGonagall regarded us with cold fury.

I gulped nervously.

"What on earth were you thinking?" she admonished. "You're lucky you weren't killed! Why aren't you in your dormitories?"

None of us said anything for a long moment. I took it upon myself to reply. "Well, Hermione wasn't feeling well before the beginning of the feast and she came here for some—some peace." I lied smoothly, before switching to truth, "I was about to come find her, anyways—I was worried, you see. And, well, she didn't know about the troll. I slipped away, heading here—Harry and Ron only came because I asked them to, you see. I thought I smelled something funny…and when we realized the troll was in here…" I trailed off, waving a hand at the troll and the damage done to the bathroom.

"It's true, Professors," Hermione spoke up, dusting herself off nervously. "If they hadn't come, I'd probably be dead now. Harry stuck his wand up the troll's nose. Bella, well, you can see what she did," she motioned to the ropes. "And Ron knocked it out with its own club using a levitation charm."

McGonagall looked at me piercingly. "And where did you learn that particular charm?"

My face was brilliantly red like the trademark Weasley hair as I replied, "I—I didn't really learn it. A sixth year left a textbook out in the common room one night. While I waited for someone to claim it, I read it. It explained about the charm…I risked using it moments ago. The risk paid off, apparently."

All three of the teachers stared at me for a long moment in disbelief—Snape more so in cold skepticism—until McGonagall sighed. "Very quick thinking and bravery on your part, Miss Swan. Ten points to Gryffindor. And ten points to each of you, Mister Weasley, Mister Potter." She paused.

Snape shot her a sharp look, and she added, looking at him through narrowed eyes, "For sheer, dumb luck." For some reason, I thought, it sounded like an excuse, but she continued, "Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. If you all are unharmed, be on your way to the common room. The feast is continuing there. Please _remain there_ for the rest of the evening. You may go."

We left then.

As soon as we were out of the teachers' sight, we were grinning. We'd won Gryffindor thirty points. And avoided getting killed in the process. And, most importantly, we become best friends.

Things were improving swiftly...


	9. November 1991: Quidditch and Sabotage

**November, 1991**

It was the morning of the first Quidditch game of the season. It was the Gryffindor versus Slytherin match.

I was pale and nearly hyperventilating all morning. I was like a zombie—I did my morning routine automatically, hardly thinking about it. I hardly heard anything anyone said, much less Wood's pep talk.

Harry and I followed the rest of the team out onto the field, both of us holding the Nimbus 2000s that Professor McGonagall had gotten for us. I'd be forever grateful that she had.

Madam Hooch was refereeing.

"Now, I want a nice, clean game, all of you," she said, shooting a pointed look at the Slytherin captain. I made a mental note to stay far away from the Slytherin players. "Mount your brooms…"

The whistle rang out.

I shot into the air, soaring easily up above the game, as Oliver had told me.

Lee Jordan was doing commentary, closely watched by McGonagall: "And the Quaffle is immediately taken by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor—what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too—"

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor McGonagall. And she's really belting along there, a neat pass to Gryffindor's newest Chaser, Harry Potter—back to Johnson and—no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle…"

Harry scored first of all the Chasers. I cheered.

I watched the game from above, staying clear away from Bludgers.

"…Slytherin in possession," Jordan was saying, "Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and speeds towards the—wait a moment—was that the Snitch?!"

I looked down in time to see Pucey drop the Quaffle, distracted by the momentary gold glimmer of the Snitch beside his left ear, and Harry dive under him and catch the Quaffle.

I dived downwards the instant I saw the gold flash. The Slytherin Seeker had seen it too, and we raced neck and neck. All the Chasers, save Harry, seemed to have forgotten what they were supposed to be doing, hovering mid-air to watch.

My Nimbus was faster than his broom. I could almost reach the glittering gold sphere—almost—

WHAM!

The Bludger came from nowhere, and I turn on my broom, spinning on it, turning upside down momentarily to duck. I was lucky and did. I swung back up and saw the Snitch had vanished.

On the upside, the Gryffindors were awarded a penalty shot.

I could hear Jordan shouting furiously about it, and McGonagall yelling at him. I laughed as I flew back up high, circling the pitch.

I was watching Harry closely, worried for my friend, worried that he'd be hurt.

That was when I saw it: he was trying to steer the broom, but it wouldn't change directions. Then, it suddenly bucked, like it was trying to make him fall.

No one, save me had noticed, at first, but slowly, as the broom got progressively worse, more and more people noticed.

The broom was rolling and bucking madly now, Harry barely managing to hang on. Both of the Weasleys tried to grab him, but the Nimbus was too fast.

I saw Hermione leave her spot, heading to the area where the teachers were…That was when I noticed it: both Snape and Quirrel were focused on Harry, muttering to themselves. They did not seem to be muttering in time with each other, like they were casting different spells.

That was when Harry lost his grip. He was thrown off, falling to the ground.

Without thinking, I shot down and grabbed him by his hand, twenty feet from the ground. I could feel nearly everyone in the stands' stares boring into me.

I prayed his hand did not slip from mine. It didn't. I gripped his hand tightly as I could, so he did not fall.

By then, Harry's broom had stopped bucking wildly, the spell on it broken, and Fred Weasley managed to retrieve it and hand it to Harry, who mounted it swiftly. He mouthed his thanks, and we shot off in different directions.

Then, nearly as soon as Harry was on his broom, I spotted a speck of glittering gold. I sped to it. The Snitch was inches from the ground. I, meanwhile, was fifty feet in the air, directly above it. My dive was straight down, racing past the ignorant Slytherin Seeker. I pulled out of the dive a foot from the ground, horizontal on my broom as I stretched out my arm and swiped up the Snitch, my hand brushing the grass.

I twirled around my broom, completely upside down for a moment, before raising the still struggling Snitch in my hand above my head.

The crowd—the Gryffindor color-clad portion, at least—erupted into cheers and, scatted through the air in the pitch my teammates were cheering and grinning and laughing. Lee Jordan was practically crowing the results through the pitch, and I was grinning like an idiot, so happy.

Twenty minutes later, Lee was still shouting the results. Gryffindor won by one hundred eighty points to fifty.

But by this time, Harry, Hermione, Ron, and I were in Hagrid's hut, drinking tea, discussing the odd behavior of Harry's broom…

**PLEASE READ!! VERY IMPORTANT!!!**

**Okay, I was looking at HP-Twilight crossovers and I found one story-- Magic Secrets (by **violetstar13

**Sound familiar a bit? **

**Read it, please. It is only one chapter so far, but as far as I can tell, that author stole several of my ideas. **

**- Bella was sent to Forks to recruit vampires.**

**- Bella is the daughter of Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange.**

**- Edward leaves before she can tell him.**

**Please, report this, too. I already have, but I want something done about this. **

**I hate people who copy others' ideas. So, please, report it! **

****** SHE'S EVEN HAD THE GALL TO HAVE ONE OF MY STORIES AS A FAVORITE!! _WHAT THE F***???? LADY! SCREW YOU!_**

**So, I wouldn't mind if any of you sent her irate mail.  
**


	10. Authors Note

**AUTHOR'S NOTE---**

**PLEASE READ!!!**

**VERY IMPORTANT**

**I NEED FEEDBACK BEFORE I UPDATE  
**

**Okay, my lovely readers, I have a few note to write to you about.**

**FIRST, thank you all for your support and concern in the plagerism situation. I wrote the author (rather rudely, I'm sorry to say), who replied and said that it only appears similar and that it will end very differently. She has also changed the name from _"Magic Secrets"_ to "_Losing Grip_". **

**I'm still monitoring her and the story.**

**I've also checked the reviews. Currently, as of when I post this, she has eleven reviews, five of which express concern over the similarities, so my thanks go out to:**

**_twilightdreamer_**

**_Hammerwammer_**

**_ImmortalSnare_**

**_clumsydancer777_**

_**Twilightluver919-FredIsNotDead**_

**THANK YOU ALL!!!!!!!**

**SECOND, a few of you reviewers mentioned how you wanted Bella not to be Seeker. So, I've set up a poll. Please vote. Choose: Harry or Bella as Seeker?**

**I won't delete the previous chapter, but I can add an alternate chapter with Bella as Chaser. **

**PLEASE VOTE!!!!!!!!**

**...I'll probably post the alternate chapter anyways in a moment.**

**THIRD, I would like any reviewer who thinks any certain scenes from any of the books (save the 7th, as that's a special case) should be included, PLEASE TELL ME!!!**

**I want to know what you guys would like, so I don't disappoint you. **

**LASTLY, I want to thank you all. You guys are all awesome readers and reviewers. I hope I don't disappoint you!!!**

**THANKS AGAIN!  
**


	11. November 1991: Quidditch ALTERNATE

**Author's Note: Okay, this chapter is for you all who think Harry should be seeker, and those of you who just wanted to see it. **

**Even if you don't want Harry to be Seeker, I hope you like it! Review!  
**

* * *

**November, 1991**

It was the morning of the first Quidditch game of the season. It was the Gryffindor versus Slytherin match.

I was pale and nearly hyperventilating all morning. I was like a zombie—I did my morning routine automatically, hardly thinking about it. I hardly heard anything anyone said, much less Wood's pep talk or all my classmates coming up and saying Harry and I would be great.

Harry and I followed the rest of the team out onto the field, both of us holding the Nimbus 2000s that Professor McGonagall had gotten for us. I'd be forever grateful that she had.

Madam Hooch was refereeing, go figure.

"Now, I want a nice, clean game, all of you," she said, shooting a pointed look at the Slytherin captain. I made a mental note to stay far away from the Slytherin players. "Mount your brooms…"

The whistle rang out.

I shot into the air, soaring easily past the others. Harry's and my brooms were easily and obviously the fastest. I flew into the fray, alert and prepared.

Lee Jordan was doing commentary, closely watched by McGonagall: "And the Quaffle is immediately taken by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor—what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too—" I laughed to myself.

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor," he apologized, clearly not meaning it, "And she's really belting along there, a neat pass to Katie Bell—back to Johnson—who throws it towards Gryffindor's newest Chaser, Bella Swan—NO!" Jordan yelled, furious, when I never receive the ball, "Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint has taken the Quaffle and off he goes, though Bella's all but ahead of him with that Nimbus 2000!"

Flint grinned nastily at me and swerved at me, but I swiftly dodged on instinct, laughing loudly and joyfully as I did so. I couldn't help it—it was fun. I dodged and ducked and wove, taunting Flint as I did. After several minutes of this, the crowd—even some Slytherins—were laughing at Flint.

"Oi, would you look at that!" Lee was laughing, "Flint keeps going after Bella, but she is avoiding him like a fly avoids a flyswatter!"

Flint suddenly roared as he dove at me. I spun around my broom, putting it in between him and me. His forehead connected with the broomstick and, as he began to fall, I snatched the Quaffle.

"I'll take that," I laughed, and soared to the Slytherin end of the pitch. I scored, having feigned to the right and thrown to the left.

"GRYFFINDOR SCORES!" Lee was cheering.

The gold and scarlet portion of the crowd erupted in cheers, while the silver and emerald clad part howled and moaned.

Angelina flew by me, and gave me a high-five.

Above us, Harry was cheering too, keeping apart from the trouble.

Minutes later, after Harry'd had a false alarm of the Snitch, Katie, Angelina, and I were shuffling the Quaffle between us.

Personally, my small stature was a positive thing, I think. I was able to nimbly duck and avoid oncoming people or things. I was more flexible, too. I could adroitly dodge and stretch and duck. And because there was less of me to notice, I could sneak up behind people. Plus, smaller person means a smaller target for Bludgers to hit.

Angelina threw the Quaffle suddenly to me, and I zoomed towards the hoop. Just before I could throw it, Flint suddenly came out of nowhere, and I collided with him, losing my grip on my broom as I had been so concentrated on my grip on the Quaffle.

"FOUL!" Lee was bellowing as I reacted.

I fell towards the ground, my broom alongside me, but, mid air, my hand went out, groping for it and the Nimbus 2000 immediately snapped into my hand, like during the first flying lesson. I swung onto the broom literally two feet from the ground and used their shock to score again.

"Foul!" yelled the Gryffindors.

"So—after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating—"

"Jordan!"

"I mean, after that open and revolting foul—"

"_Jordan, I am warning you!_"

"All right, all right!" he exclaimed, "Flint nearly kills the newest member of the Gryffindor team—and also the youngest house Chaser in over a century—but that could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Swan, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue to play, Gryffindor still in possession…"

I laughed despite myself at Jordan's blunt favoritism, though it was well deserved, I thought.

Minutes later, the score was at twenty to fifty, Slytherin winning, unfortunately. I went in for the Quaffle, caught it, and tossed it back to Angelina when a Bludger came flying at me. I spun and kicked it—no joke—away with my foot easily, though it hurt quite a bit.

Angelina and Katie had the ball at the other end of the pitch, and were handling it well.

The other Bludger came from nowhere, and I turn on my broom, spinning on it, turning upside down momentarily to duck. I was lucky; the Bludger narrowly missed me. Lee was howling furiously from the stands.

Well, the Slytherin Beaters were very…persistent, if nothing else.

I watched from afar as Angelina and Katie fought for possession of the Quaffle, ready and alert.

Suddenly, my broom gave a mighty jerk. I steadied myself, thinking it was over.

But then it happened again and again, progressively getting faster and closer together.

I saw Harry having the same problem, far above. Fred shot to him to help and George to me. I was losing my grip on the broom, slipping more and more with each of the broom's jerks and bucks.

With swift glances, I saw Hermione leaving her spot and hurrying to the teachers' box, where both Quirrel and Snape were looking at Harry and me, mouthing words. They were not in rhythm with each other, causing me to guess they were ignorant of each other's chanting.

I had no control of my broom, and it was all I could do _not_ to fall off. It was a spell—or spells—making Harry's and my brooms do this…

I reached up my sleeve and whipped out my wand.

"_Finite Incatatem!_" I yelled, just as I began to fall from the broom. Luckily, I did not. I regained control of it and shot to Harry, and repeated the spell, just in time. He clambered back on to the broom, as he'd been hanging from it by one hand.

"Thanks, Bella!" he said before shooting back higher into the air to continue searching for the Snitch. I nodded, putting my wand away, and reentered the game.

But, before anyone could really do much, Harry was diving almost straight down, towards a miniscule gold glint. Suddenly, he clapped a hand over his mouth, like he was going to be sick. He landed on all fours, coughing.

Something gold fell into his hand, and he stared at it, before whooping for joy and holding it up.

I was yelling and cheering in delight, just like the rest of the team, the Gryffindor supporters, and Lee.

Gryffindor had won by one hundred seventy points to sixty.

But, ten minutes later, while everyone was back in the common rooms, my three best friends and I were discussing the events while sipping tea in Hagrid's hut.


	12. Late December 1991: The Mirror of Erised

**Late December, 1991**

I didn't blame Harry for sneaking out to see that mirror again. When I'd seen him trying to sneak down from the dormitory while I had been working on an extra credit essay—not that I needed it—, I had decided to join him after hearing so much about it.

So, we had come to the mirror, hidden from others beneath the Invisibility Cloak.

I stared at the mirror. Like Harry, I was not alone in the mirror's reflection. Just over my shoulder were two people, who I assumed to be my parents.

My mother did not appear malicious or violent or mad in any way. Instead, she appeared calm and loving and kind…if only it were the truth, I lamented. Studying her beautiful face, I decided McGonagall and Ollivander were right. I did look a lot like her. She had long, thick, curly, glossy ebony black locks that were styled in an elegant hairdo: half was up in a bun atop her head, curls spilling down from it, the rest hanging down framing her face. I'd gotten a slight curl to my hair from her, and the dark hued hair. She had a strong jaw, thin nose, and a slightly thin face. She had a tall, curvy, slim physique, adding to her beauty. Dark eyes—much darker than my own—seemed to sparkle proudly as she smiled softly to me.

Beside her, my father had slightly messy brown hair with the slightest curl to it. He, too, had dark eyes, though not quite as dark as my mother's. He had a tall, lean frame, but underlying muscles present. He had a thin face, too, with a short beard growing and sharp features.

There was no sign of malice on his face, as there had been none upon my mother's face, but I knew it would not—could not—be so in reality.

They were both cold blooded murderers. They would never be the loving parents I wished they would be. Never. If anything, they would most certainly kill me if they found me.

"So—back again, Harry? Bella?" a voice said from behind Harry and I.

I spun and saw Dumbledore literally appear out of thin air, sitting on a desk by the opposite wall.

"A Disillusionment Charm, correct?" I asked curiously, before I could stop myself.

Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw Harry roll his eyes. He knew of my insatiable thirst for knowledge.

Dumbledore chuckled. "As always, correct Miss Swan. How do you even know of the charm?" I blinked, then explained about how it had been in a thick, ancient-looking volume from the library that I'd read a few weeks ago.

He smiled, amused, and said, "I'm surprised. That is normally a spell you would learn about in seventh year. But then again, it is you. I should have expected you—as well as Miss Granger—to know about them," he chuckled, his piercing eyes twinkling amusedly. "Five points to Gryffindor."

There was a moment of silence, until Dumbledore said, "So, you two, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised."

"We didn't know it was called that, sir," Harry replied. My eyebrows were furrowed in concentration as my eyes were drawn to the inscription on the top of the mirror…then gasped in realization.

"The Mirror of Erised…the Mirror of Desire…" I murmured, then read the inscription, backwards. "_I show not your face but your heart's desire_…"

"Very good, Miss Swan." Dumbledore said, nodding. "It shows what we desire the most in the world—our heart's truest desires. You both, who have never known a true family, see just that. You see your parents and family, Harry. And you, Bella, see your parents."

"But in the mirror they aren't Voldemort's followers, I see," I added, gazing sadly at the enchanted glass.

"And it shows your friend, Ronald, who has always been overshadowed by his brothers, standing alone, the best of them all. But the mirror gives us neither knowledge nor truth. Many have wasted away before it, entranced by what they see." He explained. "The Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, Harry, Bella, and I ask you not to go looking for it again. If you ever _do_ run across it again, you will be prepared. Now, I think it best for you both to go back to bed."

We both nodded. As Harry picked up the Invisibility Cloak, I paused, then said, "Professor, may I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"What do you see when you look in the Mirror?"

Dumbledore paused before looking to the Mirror. "I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks."

Both Harry and I stared.

"One can never have enough socks," he replied. I raised an eyebrow, suspecting he wasn't quite telling the truth. "Another Christmas come and gone and I didn't get a single pair. People insist on giving me books…."

As he walked out of the room, I blinked and said to Harry, "You know, Ron might just be right; he may very well be off his rocker."


	13. June 1992: The Man with Two Faces

**June, 1992**

As soon as we won the chess game, Harry, Hermione, and I ran to Ron. He was unconscious, but, as far as I could see, not seriously harmed.

"Hermione, you stay and get Ron out of here," Harry said. "Go back and grab the brooms and fly out of here. Get to the owlery and send Hedwig to Dumbledore. Then take him to the Hospital Wing."

"Tell McGonagall, too," I added.

"But, Harry, Bella!" she protested, "I should go with you!"

Harry shook his head stubbornly. "No. We can handle this. Dumbledore needs to be alerted. And he needs to get to the Hospital Wing. We'll be safe—I promise."

Reluctantly, we parted.

Passing through the next door, we were assaulted by a horrid smell.

"Ugh—" I gasped. "—it smells like your and Ron's dirty socks!"

Harry didn't even disagree as we ran past the source of the stench: a dead or unconscious monstrous troll—we didn't care to find out if it was alive or not.

Upon entering the center of the next room, we both jumped when flames shot up around us: purple behind us, and black in front, blocking our way.

I went to the table in the center of the room and examined the seven different bottles on it, then the scrap of parchment with a riddle on it.

"Oh, it's brilliant!" I exclaimed. "A riddle! Most wizards haven't an ounce of logic!"

"But you can solve it, right?"

I rolled my eyes. "Harry, you _do_ have your glasses on, right? You can see who it is you're talking too, right?"

He chuckled. "Yeah, sorry."

I held up the smallest bottle. "This is the one that will get us forward."

"There's hardly enough for two swallows."

I rolled my eyes. "Be thankful there's enough for two swallows: one for me, one for you." I said, then asked, "Do you want me to drink it first?"

"Only if you want to."

I nodded, then uncorked the bottle, and hastily took a gulp, but cringed.

"It's not poison, right?" Harry asked, concerned.

I shook my head, fighting the urge to shiver. "No—it's like ice. Now, hurry! Who so ever is trying to steal the Stone might have it already!"

He gulped the last bit of the potion, then shivered, and we ran forwards, straight through the flames, which licked at us, but did not burn us.

Then, I saw the final chamber—or, more specifically, who was in it, standing before the Mirror of Erised.

Contrary to Harry's assumptions, it wasn't Snape.

It wasn't even Voldemort.

It was Quirinus Quirrell.

"_You!_" I shrieked.

I'd always been suspicious of Quirrell. I'd never liked him, nor been comfortable in his classroom or anywhere near him.

"Me," He said in a calm, cold, slightly arrogant tone. He did not stammer. So the stutter _was_ fake, just as I had once presumed… "I wondered whether I'd be meeting _you_ two here, _Potter, Swan—_or is it_ Lestrange_?" He spat our names.

I frowned, a snarl upon my face. "I never trusted you."

He appraised me with a calculating expression. "Your instincts are impeccable apparently. You are very wise then. More so than that old fool of a man, Dumbledore."

My wand was drawn, myself feet away from him, my wand poking at his throat before he could blink, which he didn't.

"Never insult Professor Dumbledore in front of me!" I snarled. Loyalty was a prominent thing in me—as well as a quick temper, just like the Sorting Hat had said.

With an almost lazy flick of his hand and a cry of pain from me, I was flung backwards through the air, landing heavily back where I'd been beside Harry, my head hitting the stone floor with a sharp crack and my left arm hitting it at the wrong angle—I heard the sickening sound of a bone breaking.

My head pounded in pain. The ceiling above me spun, my vision flickering in and out of focus. I groaned, nausea hitting me.

"Bella!" Harry exclaimed, helping me to my feet. I stumbled clumsily, but did not fall.

We both looked back to Quirrell, who had hardly batted an eye at my near attack.

"I thought it was Snape!" Harry exclaimed.

Quirrell laughed coldly, sharply. "Yes, Severus _does_ seem the type, doesn't he? Quite useful to have him swooping about the dungeons like a bat. Next to him, who'd suspect p-poor st-st-stuttering P-Professor Qu-Quirrell?"

"Snape tried to kill us!" Harry protested.

I rolled my eyes, my previous observations clicking into place with a burst of intuition. "You were the one, weren't you?" I asked. "Snape was casting a counter-curse, wasn't he? He has been trying to protect us all along!"

"Indeed," he sneered. "Your little friend, Granger, knocked me over as she hastened to light Severus' robes on fire. Another few seconds and I'd have gotten you both killed—even with Severus trying to protect you…no matter. I'm going to kill you both tonight, anyways."

He snapped his fingers and conjured ropes which instantly tied both Harry and I up, pin straight like a Full-Body Bind. I winced at the pain in my left arm.

Harry and I both wobbled, trying to regain our balance, but only he was successful. I fell, face down, but still able to watch Quirrell.

I listened as he explained how he'd been behind it all—the Gringotts break in, the troll, Voldemort in the forest, et cetera.

Quirrell looked back to the mirror, cursing and muttering under his breath.

"…Help me, Master!" he almost pleaded.

Horror flooded through me, as I laid on the floor, unable to move, when I heard a raspy voice that seemed to have come from Quirrell. "Use the children…Use one of the children."

Quirrell rounded on Harry. "Come here, Potter!" he spat, dragging Harry over to the mirror.

I knew Harry well. I knew that he'd see what he wanted most at the moment: him finding the Stone.

Then, as he stared at his reflection, his wide eyes flicked to his pocket, where I noticed a lump, where there had been none a moment before—the Stone!

I listened, fighting the urge to sink into blissful unconsciousness. Then, I watched as Quirrell revealed Voldemort, who was acting as a mere parasite, living off of Quirrell.

"Harry Potter…" He whispered. "…Isabella Lestrange…"

I could have passed out then and there, not only because of my aching, throbbing head, but also in shock. At some point, Quirrell had removed Harry's and my bindings.

I forced myself to concentrate on their words.

Voldemort was trying to goad Harry and I into joining him. "…You can be with your parents. I can bring back your parents, Harry, and save yours from Azkaban, Isabella. Don't die like the Potters…don't die begging for mercy…"

"LIAR!" Harry shouted suddenly.

"…Give me the Stone, boy! Give it to me, unless you want dear Lily to have died in vain!"

"NEVER!"

Harry sprang towards the flame door, and I swiftly followed, despite my clumsiness and dizziness.

I felt Quirrell grab my right wrist, and saw him grab Harry's with his other hand. I shoved him back with astounding force, and he was forced back.

By now, I felt as if my scar would split in pain.

Quirrell was hunched in pain, staring at his hands, which were blistering before his eyes.

"SEIZE THEM! SEIZE THEM!" Voldemort was shrieking furiously, and Quirrell lunged at Harry, who was closest to him, his blistering hands around Harry's neck—

The Stone slipped from Harry's pocket. I scooped it up into my hand, the magic tangible in the cool surface as I clutched it.

Quirrell was still trying to suffocate Harry.

I, in turn, lunged at Quirrell, despite the pain in my probably broken arm, tackling him off Harry, who fell.

Quirrell was howling in pain. Voldemort was ordering him to attack us. I grabbed Quirrell by his arms, Harry following suit. I grabbed at the professor's face. Quirrell couldn't touch us without suffering inexplicable pain—that much was obvious. It was his weakness, and I used it against him. Quirrell was writhing in pain, trying to shake us off, but I did not allow myself to let go. Just a little bit longer…

Pain was building, swelling, in my skull, concentrated in my scar and in the back of my head. I quelled the urge—nay, the need—to black out into blissful, peaceful, wonderful unconsciousness.

Both Harry and I were yelling in pain from our scar.

Harry was slipping into unconsciousness, and Quirrell lunged at him. I fought him back away from my friend, then shoved at his chest, shoving him away as he shrieked and writhed in pain even when not in contact with me. He looked like he was dying….

The Stone was still safe, clutched tightly in my right hand.

I realized a voice was saying my and Harry's names. The room swam before my eyes. I was losing grip on my consciousness swiftly.

Then, I realized someone was entering the chamber, looking concerned and near frantic.

"Dumbledore!" I gasped, collapsing to the stone floor.

I felt nauseous like I'd be sick and dizzy, and blinding pain in my scar and head.

It took all my strength to stretch out my arm towards Dumbledore and open my fisted hand, revealing the Stone, safe and in my good hands—away from Quirrell and Voldemort.

Then…I blacked out.


	14. June 1992: End of Book 1

**June 1992**

I woke slowly, as I wanted to sleep still—consciousness felt too painful and achy for my liking.

Words filtered into my brain as I was in this semi-conscious state…

"But sir, the Stone—"

"I see you are not to be distracted. Very well, the Stone. Professor Quirrell did not manage to take it from you or Bella. I arrived in time to see Bella shove him away. She saw me right before she collapsed, and she held the Stone out to me before she passed out. I had arrived in time to prevent Quirrell from harming either of you or taking the Stone, although you two were doing very well on your own, I must say."

"You got there? You got Hermione's owl?"

"We must have crossed in midair…"

At that point, I surfaced to consciousness with an almost silent groan.

Opening my eyes, I saw I was in a soft bed covered in sterile white linen. Immediately, I recognized where I was: the Hospital Wing. My head was still pounding, but not as severely as before. My arm felt better, healed.

My hand went to my head, and I was surprised to find it wrapped snuggly with gauze. I blinked, wondering what the reason for that was.

Then, I realized I wasn't alone in the Hospital Wing. Harry was in the bed to my right, talking to Dumbledore, who had his back to me. Dumbledore was saying, "…No sooner had I reached London than it became clear to me that the place I should be was the place I had just left I arrived—"

"Bella!" Harry exclaimed suddenly. "You're awake!"

I smiled and nodded. "I am. Good—er, is it afternoon or morning? How long have we been here, Headmaster?"

"Three days. Your friends Miss Granger and Mister Weasley were most worried." Dumbledore replied calmly, smiling serenely. "As I was saying, I arrived just in time to see you, Bella, shove Quirrell away from yourself and you, Harry, by which time, you had slipped into unconsciousness. That was when you collapsed, Bella. I feared I was too late."

"You almost were, sir." I replied. "I wouldn't have been able to keep Quirrell away from the Stone and Harry."

"Not the Stone, Bella," he said, frowning as he shook his head. "I meant the two of you—the effort you both used to protect the Stone nearly killed you both. When I saw you both collapse…I feared the worst. Thankfully, you weren't dead, but you had been very close—and not to mention the fact that you, Bella, had broken your left arm and gotten a fairly severe concussion."

"I knew you shouldn't have threatened Quirrell, Bella," Harry said, shaking his head.

"Not my fault," I protested, "It was provoked."

"How exactly did you get the concussion?" Dumbledore asked, confused.

"Well, it was about when we had just reached the final chamber and found out it was Quirrell, not Professor Snape—like some people thought—" I looked at Harry briefly. "And I noted that I should have listened to my instincts—something had told me not to trust Quirrell, but I dismissed it. Anyways, Quirrell was mocking us about how we'd been suspecting S—Professor Snape all along instead of him. He made a comment, something like I was wise not to trust you and then, er, he said 'unlike that old fool Dumbledore'." I scowled.

"And then?" the Headmaster prompted gently.

"And then she was literally at his throat with her wand," Harry said, smiling wryly. "She threatened him, then he threw her back about twenty feet, through the air. She landed on her back and hit her head pretty bad.

"But what of the Stone?" He asked. "And Quirrell?"

"The Stone has been destroyed." Dumbledore replied.

"What what about your friend, Nicholas Flamel and his wife, Perenelle?" I asked. "They'll die, then?"

"Oh, you know about Nicholas and Perenelle?" Dumbledore asked, sounding delighted. "You _did_ do the thing properly, didn't you? Well, Nicholas and I had a little chat and he decided it was best. Nicholas and Perenelle have enough Elixir stored away to set their affairs in order and then, yes, they will die."

Harry was gaping, shocked. I was thinking.

"To those as young as you, I'm sure it seems incredible, but to Nicholas and Perenelle, it seems more like going to bed after a very long day. To the well organized mind, death is but the next greatest adventure…"

I listened and talked with him and Harry about Voldemort and Quirrell, but his comment did not leave my mind.

"…_To the well organized mind, death is but the next greatest adventure…"_

I agreed; it made sense, after all. But, in my opinion, death was not appealing. Not to me then. I did not want to die, even if it was inevitable. In my mind's eye, I could easily see myself, in a moment of foolish self-sacrifice, dying for someone I loved. That was probably the way I'd go, especially with Voldemort about. I had a feeling that I would be one of the people who died young for someone else. At least, that was what I hoped. I hoped my death would be for a good cause. I did not want to die in a hospital bed, peaceful as it may be, because I'd much rather trade my life for another's.

Darn 'saving-people-thing' and nobleness…

Luckily, Madam Pomfrey took pity on me. She'd released Harry a few hours before the end of term feast, and I was dying to go. She checked my head and told me "Well, you've rested well enough, I suppose…just be careful, Miss Swan. The concussion had caused an upset in your sense of balance. It may or may not be permanent. We'll have to see. But…I suppose you can go…"

I had smiled like crazy, hugged her, then rushed towards the Great Hall, but not before tripping on my way out of the Hospital Wing. Bloody equilibrium…

**(A/N: LOL. **_**That's**_** why her balance and coordination sucks like a black hole the size of my fist. BTW—did you know, a black hole the size of a fist could swallow up the earth! Just saying… *whistles* That's a lot of sucking power. Anyways…)**

I made it to the feast just before it began. I slipped in, then sat beside Hermione and the Weasley twins, in front of Ron and Harry. I ignored the stares I got from people.

I frowned when I noticed the entire Great Hall was decked out in Slytherin colors. There was even a large Slytherin banner hanging behind the head table.

Ew…

Snape, I noticed, looked very close to _actually_ smiling. (I know, right! Creepy!) Beside Dumbledore, McGonagall looked quite the opposite: her lips were pursed tightly, a rather grim expression on her face. I could relate. Slytherin had won, apparently, judging by Snape's face.

The Slytherins were not ignorant of this fact, either. They all looked arrogant (as ever) and gloating. All the Gryffindors at my table looked gloomy.

"Another year gone!" Dumbledore spoke cheerfully, grinning happily, quite unlike myself and my classmates. "And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were…you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before the next year starts…." I stifled a laugh.

"Now, as I understand it, the House Cup here needs awarding, and the points stand thus: In fourth place, Gryffindor with two hundred and fifty two points;—" I cringed. My three friends and I were largely to blame for the terrible loss. "—In third place, Hufflepuff with three hundred forty three; In second place, Ravenclaw with four hundred thirteen; and finally, Slytherin with four hundred and seventy two."

While the Slytherins burst into applause (Snape included), the Gryffindors hardly clapped. I set my elbow on the table, and rested the side of my head in my hand, my face glum and resentful. I did not clap once. Harry, Hermione, and Ron clapped a tiny bit. Harry clapped once, paused a few seconds, clapped again, then stopped.

When the storm of clapping and cheering and stomping from the Slytherins stopped, Dumbledore spoke again.

"Yes, yes, well done, Slytherin," he said, still smiling serenely. "However," There was dead silence, "recent events must be taken into account."

The silence was suddenly filled with hope and anxiety at the Gryffindor table. The Slytherins' smiles faded a bit. So maybe they did know what was coming…

"Ahem," Dumbledore continued, "I have a few last minute points to dish out. Let me see, yes…

"First—to Mister Ronald Weasley," Ron suddenly went purple, "…For the best game of chess Hogwarts has seen in its many years," you could have heard a pin drop in the silence in the hall, "I award Gryffindor house: fifty points."

The cheers were deafening. I distinctly heard Percy telling the other Prefects, "My brother, you know! My youngest brother! Got past McGonagall's chess set!"

After long applause—even from the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs—there was silence.

"Second, to Miss Hermione Granger…for the use of cool logic and resourcefulness in the face of danger, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."

As another roar of cheers erupted, Hermione buried her face in her arms. I suspected she had burst into tears. All around us, Gryffindors were cheering madly—Gryffindor was a hundred points up, at three hundred fify-two!

"Third, to Mister Harry Potter," Dumbledore said, causing the room to be deathly silent, "…for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house sixty points."

The cheers were deafening, even more so than for Ron or Hermione—Gryffindor had surpassed Hufflepuff! The house had four hundred and twelve points!

"Fourthly, to Miss Isabella Swan," As he paused, my face was redder than Ron's hair, redder than the red on the Gryffindor crest, "for admirable strength of heart, mind, and magic, I award Gryffindor house: sixth points."

The din was completely deafening. It was like the ceiling and windows were quaking with the sheer volume of it. I felt several of my housemates give me hugs as they cheered themselves hoarse. I noticed that even McGonagall was smiling, even as she tried to suppress it.

I was grinning like crazy: Gryffindor was tied with Slytherin for first place. But if only we'd gotten one more point!

Dumbledore held up his hands once more. "And lastly," he said, smiling happily, his piercing eyes twinkling madly, "There are all types of courage. It takes a great deal to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I, therefore, award ten points to Mister Neville Longbottom!"

Anyone outside of the Great Hall surely would have thought an explosion had gone off inside the hall.

Neville was white with shock, because he had never, in all his time at Hogwarts, earned Gryffindor House one point before today. As I watched, Neville was disappearing under the many people who were hugging him. Heck, I could hardly see as so many were hugging me, as well as Harry, Hermione, and Ron. I noticed, with a thrill of satisfaction, Malfoy's face, which couldn't have been more shocked and horrified if he'd tried. The little ferret…

"Which means," Dumbledore called over the thunder of applause, "we need a change in decoration!"

He clapped his hands once, and the hanging changed—the green became red and the silver became gold and the huge Slytherin serpent vanished, replaced by Gryffindor's majestic lion.

With a laugh of glee, I saw that Snape was shaking McGonagall's hand, a terrible, forced smile.

It was the best evening I could remember. I loved it, every bit, every second.

* * *

**AN: I love this chapter.**

**It just has that...warm and fuzzy feeling of happiness, friendship, and love (not the romantic kind, that is). Isn't it sweet/cute?**

**Okay, 2 things you must do. Here are the steps.**

**Step 1: Click the review button down there.**

**Step 2: Give me your opinion.**

**Step 3: TELL ME WHAT SCENES YOU WANT IN THE STORY----ESPECIALLY FROM BOOKS 2 and 3. Got it? Good.**

**Now, you know what to do!!**

**Hope I haven't disappointed you!**

**ALSO----- A few of you reviews have commented on what Bella saw in the Mirror of Erised. Personally, here is what I think, as I told one reviewer:**

It was hard to decide what Bella might see in the mirror. She's a complex character, when you think about it. She is very compassionate, in my opinion, which I believe was endowed to her by her past and her hard childhood. She is very selfless and caring, which I think would make her see her true family instead of a new one. This may be because she doesn't want to burden another family, and would want her true family to be...non-demented and not evil. She'd want them cured of their insanity. She would see them good and loving, like any child would want. She would want them that was not only for the yearn she felt for a family, but also for their own good. I also think she would have yearned for a family for many years beforehand, too. She grew up in an orphanage, where the other children would have been adopted and leave, which would cause her to feel lonely. She would want to be adopted into a family.  
That yearn continued for years, and still resonated in the girl she was then. The years of yearning for a family would continue, in my opinion, for quite some time. Eventually, I think she would realize that it was no use, and come to accept Harry, Hermione, and the Weasleys as her true family, though the Cullens would be accepted as her true family as well years later.


	15. September 1, 1992: The Whomping Willow

**BOOK 2**

**September 1****st****, 1992**

I had waited for the Weasleys and Harry on the platform. When Mrs. and Mr. Weasley, Percy, Fred, George, and Ginny ran through the barrier, but not Ron and Harry, I hesitated, then jumped through the barrier, and saw them running, full speed _away _from the barrier.

_What in the hell…? _was my only thought, as I hurtled after them, calling for them, though they did not hear.

I ran out of the station in time to see them in the flying car—and beginning to fly it.

I muttered a Confundus Spell on everyone near as I ran towards the car. It was taking off, and beginning to rise in the air. I took a moment as I ran to be sure none of the muggles noticed me…or the flying car.

By the time I was close enough, the car was just out of my reach. I jumped, trying to get my magic to aid my leap, which it did. I managed to grab the door handle on the back left door. The door swung open because of my pull and weight. I shrieked in surprise, and both Ron, who was driving, and Harry, in the passenger seat, to swivel to look at me.

"Bella?"

"Harry!" I shrieked, flailing in the air as the ground grew further and further from the ground. "Ron! Help me before I fall!" I shrieked again as my hand began to slip.

Harry clambered into the back seat and grabbed my hand, and I grabbed him with both of mine. Slowly, he helped me climb in the car.

"You…you idiots!" I panted, breathing heavily from my near fall.

"Bella, it's lucky you don't weigh that much," Harry said, panting like me.

I rolled my eyes. "Lucky the orphanage matron was a sadist, hated me, and often refused me my dinner…bloody woman finally did something for me…." I muttered grudgingly.

I knew I was small, like Harry. I was about of average height, but I weighed a good bit less than most my age.

"But that's not the point," I said, "why in the _hell_ are you driving this thing instead of being on the train?!"

"The barrier wouldn't let us through!" Harry exclaimed.

I raised an eyebrow. "And you didn't think of sending an owl?! Of waiting for Mr. and Mrs. Weasley? Of making the car invisible? Of Confunding the Muggles first? Of _not _doing this?"

"To be fair," piped up Ron, "I can't do a Confundus Charm…and I doubt Harry even knows what it is."

I rolled my eyes. "Fine, but at least…"

My voice trailed off as I looked at Hedwig's empty cage.

"Where is Hedwig?"

"I—I let her fly," Harry said.

I groaned. "Call her back! Call her back then! And get me a parchment and quill—my luggage is on the train."

After Harry called Hedwig back and gave me the requested items, I stroked Hedwig as I thought what to write.

"Hello, Hedwig," I said happily, "I'm sorry it's not much, but here you are…"

I offered her the owl treat from my pocket, and she took it gratefully. The boys noticed my change in disposition between them and the snowy owl, but had enough common sense to not question me as I wrote.

_Professor Dumbledore,_

_The barrier at King's Cross would not let Harry and Ron through. I realized they were nowhere to be found and left Platform 9 ¾ to look for them, and I saw them leaving the station in a rush. I hurried and found them beginning to start Arthur Weasley's flying Ford Anglia. I performed the Confundus Charm before any of the Muggles noticed._

_I safely got in the car before they took off, and we are on our way to Hogwarts—we should arrive near the time of the train._

_I apologize in advance for Ron and Harry's foolishness._

_Personally, I find it suspicious how a house-elf shows up to try to convince Harry not to go to Hogwarts this year, just before Harry and Ron are unable to enter the platform._

_I shall see you soon._

_Wishing you well,_

_Bella Swan_

I sighed in resignation—letter or no, we'd all get expelled, if we were lucky—as I rolled it up and gave it to Hedwig, who flew away ahead of us, disappearing in the clouds and sky.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, hearing my sigh.

"We're going to be in so much trouble," I groaned, "and I don't even know if my spell worked, keeping Muggles from seeing. I hope it was though, otherwise, there could be consequences—_legal_ consequences…"

The boys looked like they were enjoying themselves, flying in the air far above the train, alone. I was feeling quite shrewd and stern with them…rather like Professor McGonagall.

* * *

But, several hours later, the fun appeared to have worn off. Harry had had a few toffees that he offered to share. I had declined. Now, they both looked thirsty. Not to mention that it was stifling in the car, even with the windows down.

I sighed, but muttered, waving my wand. Three glasses materialized in my lap. I set them upright and waved my wand at a nearby cloud that we were passing. I changed the water vapor to liquid water, which soared into the glasses and filled them. I handed one to each of them.

"Thanks, Bella," Ron said, gulping his down.

I nodded, sipping at mine silently, thinking, and I brandished my wand again, muttering a spell. A cooling breeze flowed through the car, making it bearable.

They both nodded their thanks, looking more content.

Hours later, I had stopped the breeze, as it was getting cooler and cooler as we flew further north. We'd all put our sweaters back on.

The engine had begun to whine, and I had a bad feeling…

Ron said, "Can't be much further, can it? Ready for another check on the train?"

At Harry's and my nods, he steered the car downward through the clouds. In the distance, a castle was visible on a cliff, above a lake.

"_There!_" Harry shouted, pointing. "Straight ahead!"

"Come on," Ron cajoled the car, shaking the wheel a bit, "nearly there."

The engine groaned, and stream poured from under the hood. Suddenly, the car wobbled nastily.

"Come _on_," Ron muttered.

We were flying over the lake, its surface glossy black a mile below us. Ron's knuckles were white as she gripped the steering wheel, trying to keep it steady. Ron stepped down on the accelerator, and there was a clunk, a sputter, and the engine died.

"Oh no…" Ron moaned.

The nose of the car suddenly dropped. The car was falling right towards the castle wall and us with it.

Harry and Ron and me were all yelling and screaming in alarm. Ron jerked the wheel to the right, and we barely missed the wall, soaring over it.

Ron suddenly let go of the wheel, drawing his wand—

"Move!" I yelled at Ron, clambering into the driver's seat and shoving Ron out of the way.

"WATCH OUT FOR THAT TREE!" Harry suddenly yelled as I did so, and I grabbed the wheel, trying to avoid the tree—the Whomping Willow.

I landed the car, just barely missing the tree trunk. The jolt of the impact was something we all felt. Our heads whiplashed, and we groaned.

"Is everyone okay?" I asked loudly.

"My wand—my wand…" Ron groaned, holding his up. It was snapped in two, held together by only a few splinters.

"We can mend it—" Harry began, but was interrupted by a heavy blow to the car roof.

We all screamed in alarm. I heard Ron frantically ask what happen.

A branch as thick as a python slammed into my window, shattering glass everywhere over me. I screamed as I was hit, and ducked down near the pedals, though not before I was hit in the ribs.

The tree's gnarled boughs were hitting the car wherever it could reach. The car's roof was bent inward, and suddenly the windshield shattered, glass splinters and fragments flying everywhere.

My eyes fell on the accelerator, and I realized the engine had restarted. I slammed down on the gas pedal, and the car shot forward, out of reach of the tree.

I groaned, and practically fell out of the car. Harry and Ron followed suit. The car shot away from us, ignoring Ron's frantic yells, and into the Forbidden Forest.

"Can you believe our luck?" asked Ron miserably. "Of all the trees we could have hit, we had to hit the one that hits back…"

I rolled my eyes.

"Come on," Harry said, standing, "we'd better get up to the school."

I nodded, "Help me up, will you, Harry?"

He complied, and I gasped, doubling over as soon as I was on my feet, grasping my ribs.

"Bella?" Ron asked, "Are you okay?"

I removed my hand from my ribs, and gasped and looked at my robes. Blood had soaked through the fabric. The willow's branches had cut through my robes.

Shakily, I let out a breath, trying to ignore the pain in my ribs. "I'll need to get Madam Pomfrey to look at this…"

"How bad?" asked Harry, concerned.

"Bad enough," I muttered.

We looked in on the Sorting from where we stood for a moment, and I was repulsed by the fact that I could see Gilderoy Lockhart sitting at the High Table in ghastly robes of aquamarine.

"Hang on," Harry said, "There's an empty chair at the staff table…Where's Snape?"

My eyes caught sight of something else outside of the Great Hall.

"Guys…"

They ignored me. "Maybe he's ill!" Ron exclaimed hopefully.

"Guys!" I repeated.

"Maybe he's _left,_" Harry said, a hopeful grin on his face, "because he missed out on the Defense Against the Dark Arts job _again!_"

"Guys!"

"Or he might have been _sacked_!" Ron guessed enthusiastically. "I mean everyone hates him!"

"_Guys!_"

"What?" they both exclaimed.

"_Maybe_," said a voice behind them and to my right, "he was waiting to hear why you three did not arrive on the school train, or thinking you should have listened to your…friend."

I stifled a laugh at their suddenly terrified faces. "I assume Professor Dumbledore got my owl?"

Professor Severus Snape had a nasty smile on his face as he looked at Harry and Ron. The smile slipped from his face into a look of impassiveness as he looked at me, though he frowned. "He received it, yes, but he was most curious why Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley felt the need to _fly_ here in a car instead of using the perfectly fine Hogwarts Express. Now, follow me all of you."

Harry and Ron still looked terrified, and I sent them an _I-told-you-so_ look. We followed him to his office in the dungeons.

"In!" he ordered, opening his office door. I followed my two friends inside.

The chill was uncomfortable, and my hand slipped inside my pocket to my wand. I barely breathed the incantation, and I felt warmth in my bones, though it was only for me.

The Potions Master seated himself in his office chair, and regarded us coldly.

"So," he said softly, "the train isn't good enough for the famous Harry Potter and Isabella _Swan_ and their faithful sidekick, Weasley. Wanted to arrive with a _bang_, did we, boys?"

I crossed my arms over my chest, boldly giving the professor a sharp look. With a roll of his eyes, he added reluctantly, "...and girl."

I sniffed.

"No, sir," Harry began, "it was the barrier at King's Cross, it—"

"Silence!" Snape snapped icily, "What have you done to the car?"

Ron gulped, but we remained silent.

"You were lucky one of you had the sense to prevent the Muggles from seeing you," Snape nearly snarled. "I can assure you that you would all be expelled in an instant had you been seen!

"I also noticed in my search of the park that damage has been done to a very valuable Whomping Willow!"

I winced at the mention of the tree, my hand still covering the bloody gash along my ribs.

"That tree did more damage to us than—" Ron blurted out.

"_Silence_!" Snape snapped again, "Most unfortunately, you are not in my House, and the decision to expel you does not rest with me. I shall go and fetch the people who _do_ have that happy power. You will wait here."

'Happy power' my arse.

The blood drained from my face, making it even more pale than normal, even counting the slight blood loss I suffered from. I shifted my hand, keeping pressure on the spot where the still bleeding profusely gash was. To help hide it, I crossed my arms over my chest, keeping the gash and blood hidden.

I stared at Harry and Ron in horror, mute.

* * *

Ten minutes later, Snape returned with Professor McGonagall……and Professor Dumbledore. I paled further.

I'd seen her angry before, but the way that her mouth thinned and eyes narrowed made more squirms of shame worm their way into my stomach.

I could stand Snape's wrath, but I was terrified of disappointing Dumbledore and McGonagall. She was my Head of House, and my mentor. Dumbledore was the headmaster, and had been helping me from day one. I looked up to them immensely, and the shame I felt for disappointing them pained me worse than anything the Whomping Willow had done to me.

Beside me, Harry and Ron flinched as she drew her wand, though she only flicked it at the fireplace, where flames erupted.

"Sit," she said, and we complied.

"Explain," said the Transfiguration Mistress tersely, her glasses glinting in the firelight ominously.

Ron launched into the story, with my and Harry's added comments.

"—so we had no choice, Professor, we couldn't get to the train."

"Why didn't you send us a letter by owl instead? I believe _you_ have an owl?" McGonagall said coldly to Harry.

I huffed, "That's exactly what I said to them!"

Harry gaped, seeming to be realizing that we were right.

"I—I didn't think—" he stuttered.

"That," said McGonagall coldly, "is obvious."

Dumbledore regarded us in sad disappointment. More shame welled, and I felt a flush of shame coloring my white face, though it probably wasn't as vibrant as usual, as I was still bleeding liberally.

"We'll go get our stuff," Ron said hopelessly.

"What are you talking about, Weasley?" barked McGonagall.

"Well," the red-haired boy said, "you're expelling us, aren't you?"

McGonagall and Dumbledore's eyes met, alarmed and surprised.

Dumbledore spoke, "Not today, Mr. Weasley, but I must impress upon the three of you the seriousness of what you have done. Had you been seen, the consequences would be much worse. But either way, I will be writing to your families tonight. I must also warn you that if you do anything like this again, I will have no choice but to expel you."

Briefly, I wondered who he'd write to about me. I came from the orphanage, and I hadn't been there since before my first year. The matron certainly did not know of magic, nor did she care. I had never gone back to the orphanage, and had presumed I'd been technically adopted by someone…but no one had ever really told me. Perhaps the Weasleys? I wasn't sure at all…

I snapped from my thoughts.

Snape looked like Christmas had been cancelled. He cleared his throat, "Professor Dumbledore, these children have flounted the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry, caused serious damage to an old, valuable tree—surely acts of this nature—"

"It is for Professor McGonagall to decide on these children's punishment, Severus," Dumbledore said calmly. "They are in her House and are therefore her responsibility." He looked to McGonagall. "I must return to the feast, Minerva, I've got to give out a few notices. Come, Severus, there's a delicious-looking custard tart I want to sample—"

Snape shot a look of pure venom at Harry and me before he swept from the room after the headmaster, leaving my friends and me alone with McGonagall.

"Professor," Ron spoke up, "I wanted to watch my sister being Sorted—"

"The Sorting Ceremony is over," she said, "Your sister is also in Gryffindor."

I smiled, happy for Ginny, but then bit my lip, thinking. "Professor, speaking of Gryffindor, technically the term hadn't started when we took the car, so Gryffindor really shouldn't have points deducted, should it?"

She stared at me as she replied, though I could swear she almost smiled, "Correct as always, Miss Swan. I will not take any points, but each of you shall receive a detention."

I wondered why only one detention, but didn't question it.

The Head of Gryffindor eyed the three of us piercingly. I shifted under her gaze, and winced as it jarred the bloody gash on my side.

This did not go unmissed by McGonagall.

"Miss Swan, what happened to your side?" she asked sharply.

I winced, and hesitantly removed my hand, revealing the blood-soaked robes and my blood covered palm. "The Whomping Willow" was my explanation.

"Foolish girl!" she chided, "It could have damaged your lung and you did not speak up! Come along now. I'll take you to the hospital wing…"

Swiftly, she magicked up a plate of sandwiches and some pumpkin juice for the boys before leading me to the hospital wing, where Madam Pomfrey swiftly healed the gash, muttering all the while about 'reckless children' and how they were getting themselves hurt before term even started.

I had apologized to her for it, but she had only looked at me long and hard before simply saying that it wasn't the first time and wouldn't be the last for me.

I had laughed and agreed.

Swiftly, I was allowed to leave and return to Gryffindor Tower.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, so, what do you think?**

**I hope you all liked it, and that I kept it both close to the book and Bella's actions...reasonable for her.**

**OKAY--- SIDE NOTE: I'm writing a new story for Harry Potter. Here is the full, fancy summary I've written so far:**

**_Harry Potter was not an only child. Lily and James Potter had another child, a daughter. _**

**_Phoenix Alexandra Lily Potter was Harry's elder sister. She was there, that Halloween night, when her parents were murdered. Both she and her brother were subject of Voldemort's Killing Curse. _**

**_Both survived. _**

**_But no one knew of little Phoenix Potter's survival. When help came to retrieve the children, Phoenix was mistaken for dead. Only Harry was known to have survived._**

**_But Phoenix Potter was not to be forgotten. Years later, when her parents' murderer returned, so will the eldest living Potter._**

**_No one knows she lives. _**

**_Much less does anyone know of her power, and how she will change the path of the war and several, if not many, destinies. _**

**_How will she survive, on her own, without aid? How will she discover Voldemort's past and uncover the truth of the only way to destroy the Darkest wizard of today? How will she fight Voldemort and his Death Eaters, all alone, at only 17? _**

**_Using clever plots and perfect disguises._**

**_Not even Dumbledore would realize that a 17 year old girl was the almost fabled wizard seen fighting—and defeating—Death Eaters, who gives hope to the Wizarding World, almost as much as her brother, and, in time, perhaps more so, gaining more a reputation than him._**

**_But, the questions remain. How will Phoenix "Alex" Potter survive and fight? And how & when will the Potter siblings be reunited?  
_**

**Basically, its all about her--Alex. BTW--- She goes by Alex, not Phoenix. **

**If its confusing, I'll clarify it. **

**No one knows Alex survived--they all think she was killed. When she is 17, she goes leaves her 'home'. This was right after the end of Harry's 4th year. **

**She spends Harry's fifth year on the run, in hiding, pretty much, but fighting the Death Eaters and Voldemort behind the scenes, where ever they showed up. They didn't know it was her, like she wanted it to be. She fought in disguise, using only her first name, Phoenix, to allow them hints to her identity. Thus she takes up an 'alter-ego', for lack of better words. **

**But, will she and Harry ever meet?? **

**Dun-dun-DUH!**

**Please tell me your opinions on both that and the chapter! REMEMBER-- tell me any parts of the series you want included!!!  
**


	16. December 17, 1992: Dueling Club

**December 17****th****, 1992**

**The Dueling Club**

At eight o'clock that evening, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I were in the Great Hall, along with many other students.

"I wonder who'll be teaching us?" Hermione said from beside me anxiously. "Someone told me Flitwick was a dueling champion when he was young—maybe it'll be him."

"As long as it's not—" But I didn't finish my sentence. I groaned in aggravation, as well as Harry and Ron, as Gilderoy Lockhart walked onto the stage.

I _really _hated that man. I suppose he looked good, but the way everyone fawned over him…disgusting, putrid, odious, sickening, revolting, ghastly, nauseating, repellent, sordid…I could go on. How blind most were…actually believing that liar was a hero. As if he could accomplish anything other than fawning over _himself_! I've never met anyone so… self-centered and egotistical. Bloody fake!

I shook my head, clearing my mind of my rant. I noticed Snape was behind Lockhart on the stage…great. My two least favorite teachers…and I wasn't sure which I disliked the most…wait, no, I do. Lockhart, every time. If I had to choose which I could kill, it would be Lockhart's head that I held underwater.

"Gather round, gather round!" Lockhart called to the large mass of students. "Can everyone see me?" Unfortunately, I thought. "Can you all hear me?" Even more unfortunate, I added to myself.

"Excellent! Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little dueling club, to train you all in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on numerous occasions—for full details, see my published works."

I snorted very, very loudly and in a very, very un-lady-like fashion.

"Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape. He tells me he knows a tiny bit about dueling himself—" I grinned in conspiracy. I knew Snape was an expert dueler. I almost felt sorry for Lockhart…almost. "—and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don't want any of you youngsters to worry—you'll still have your Potions Master when I'm through with him, never fear!"

"Wouldn't it be great if they finished each other off?" Ron said, anxious. I grinned and stifled a laugh.

On the stage, Snape and Lockhart faced each other and bowed, or rather, Lockhart did a dramatic, flourish of a bow and Snape simply jerked his head irritably. Then, both raised their wands towards each other.

"As you can see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position," Lockhart narrated. I tried to ignore him. "On the count of three, we will cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill of course."

_Dang it._

I heard Harry mutter something along the same lines.

"One—two—three—"

Both wands were instantly in motion. But Snape was fastest.

"_Expelliarmus!_" he shouted.

Lockhart's wand went flying from his hand, through the air, as he was thrown backwards off the stage. I was the only girl who joined all the boys in snickering. I rolled my eyes at Hermione's concern for the peacock of a professor.

I listened impatiently as Lockhart explained about Disarming Charms, feeling a lot like Snape.

When he announced to split into pairs, Hermione and I moved together as Harry and Ron did the same.

Unfortunately, Snape intercepted. "Time to break up the dream team, I think," he sneered. My face hardened, but I did not sneer as I wanted to. "Weasley, you can partner with Finnigan. Miss Granger, with Miss Bulstrode. Potter with Mr. Malfoy and Swan with Miss Parkinson."

Said pug-faced Slytherin tried whining to him about partnering with a 'filthy Mudblood' but was unsuccessful in changing his mind. We regarded each other with mutual dislike.

"Face your partners!" called Lockhart. "And bow!"

She sniffed, as if thinking she was too good to bow to a Mudblood. I shrugged.

"Wands at a ready!" Lockhart shouted, "When I count to three, cast your charms to disarm your opponents—_only_ disarm them—we don't want any accidents—one…two…three—"

Instantly, my voice rang out, loud and strong—"_Expelliarmus!_" Immediately, her wand snapped from her hand, flying across the room, and Pansy was thrown backwards slightly.

But at the same time, I saw Harry get hit with a curse from Malfoy and counter with "_Rictumsempra!_" the pale-haired Slytherin doubled over, wheezing.

"_I said disarm only!_" Lockhart shouted, drawing everyone else's gazes from me and Pansy to Harry and Malfoy.

As Malfoy sank to his knees, laughing terribly, he choked out, "_Tarantallegra!_" Harry's feet began to jerk in some kind of quickstep.

"Stop! Stop!" Lockhart yelled, before Snape took control of the situation, shouting the counter spell.

The rest of the partners were in varying degrees of failed aftermath of the spell only I, apparently, had gotten correct.

I listened patiently as the teachers decided to show how to block spells with a demonstration student pair—Malfoy and Harry.

"_Serpensortia!_" Malfoy bellowed, a lengthy inky serpent shooting from his wand, falling heavily to the floor between them.

While everyone was frozen, I shot forward as the snake slithered to a classmate—Justin Finch-Fletchley—and bared its fangs as it coiled to strike.

"_NO!_" I yelled, "_Don't!_" just as Harry yelled, "_Leave him alone!_"

Astonishingly, the snake slumped, docile as a garden hose, its glittering eyes glancing between Harry and me.

Harry was smiling to Justin, while I whispered an incantation, waved my wand, and vanished the serpent.

"What do you think you're playing at?" Justin suddenly shouted, his face white as Hedwig's downy feathers, before storming from the hall, which then filled with almost fearful mutters.

"Come on, Bella," Hermione said, jerking me by my shoulder, as I saw Ron do the same to Harry. They steered us from the hall as the whispers grew louder and people began moving away from us.

"You're Parselmouths!" Ron suddenly accused, once we'd reached the empty common room.

My eyes widened in shock as Harry asked, "We're what?"

"Parselmouths," Hermione said, "It means you can talk to snakes."

"I know," the raven haired boy said, "I mean, that's only the second time I've ever done it. I accidentally set a boa constrictor on my cousin Dudley once at the zoo once—long story—but it was telling me it had never seen Brazil and I sort of set it free without meaning to—that was before I knew I was a wizard—"

"A boa constrictor told you it had never seen Brazil?" Ron repeated faintly.

Nervously, I said, "I kind of used to talk with the snakes I saw when I was at the orphanage…I thought I was mad though. As Harry said, before I knew."

"Snakes at the orphanage…" Ron said faintly.

"So?" Harry interrupted. "I bet loads of people here can do it."

"It's not a very common gift, Harry," Hermione said. "This is bad, Harry, Bella. Bad."

"What's bad?" Harry asked. I rolled my eyes. "What's wrong with everyone? Listen, if we hadn't told the snake not to attack Justin—"

"Oh, that's what you said to it."

"What'd you mean? You were there—you heard me—"

"I heard you speaking Parseltongue," Ron said, "Snake language. You could have been saying anything—no wonder Justin panicked, you sounded like you were egging the snake on or something—it was creepy, you know—" Harry gaped, astonished.

"We spoke different languages? But—I didn't realize—how can I speak a language without knowing I can speak it?"

No one spoke for a moment. I rose and went to the window. The sun had long since set, though I could see storm clouds gathering overhead. "Not much is known about Parseltongue, Harry," I said quietly, not turning to look at them, "I could count the known Parselmouths in the last millennium on one hand…you know of two of them."

"Who?" he asked, confused.

"Why do you think Slytherin's emblem is a serpent?" I asked rhetorically, before adding, "As well as Voldemort's mascot."

"Exactly," Ron said to Harry's shocked look. "Now everyone's going to think you two are Slytherin's great-great-great-grandson and granddaughter or something—"

I snorted. "They'll doubt it," I interrupted, glancing over my shoulder at them, just as lightning flashed outside, outlining my features brilliantly. "I am a stupid little Mudblood to them. They'll doubt it for me. But you…not so much. They don't know about my parents, unlike the teachers or you three."

"But, they can't prove it!" Harry exclaimed, "We can't be!"

"He lived about a thousand years ago, Harry;" Hermione said softly, "for all we know, you could be."

Outside the window, as I rested my forehead against the cool glass, thunder crashed, and fat, swift drops of water began to fall.

And suddenly, I realize how it fits my next thought:

When it rains, it pours.


	17. December 24, 1992: Grateful Presents

**December 24****th****, 1992**

I nervously knocked on the door, the noises echoing loudly in the quiet. It was only half an hour until curfew, but I was still here.

After a long moment, the door opened, revealing a confused Professor McGonagall.

"Miss Swan—what is wrong?" she asked, confused.

I shifted nervously, with my hands hidden behind my back. "May I speak with you, Professor? If I'm not interrupting anything, that is, of course."

"Of course you may, Miss Swan. Come in." She opened the door wider to allow me entrance.

She lit the fireplace silently with her wand before seating herself behind her desk. I followed suit, sitting in the chair in front of her desk.

"What can I help you with, Bella?" she asked gently.

I fidgeted nervously, before producing a small ruby and gold wrapped box. "I—I wanted to give you this, to thank you for all you've done for me."

She looked utterly shocked. "For what?"

"Well," I began earnestly, "You invited me here, and told me so much, before school even started. You helped me meet two of my best friends. You have helped me a lot here, besides teaching….and, well, you didn't expel Harry, Ron, or me when we, ah, arrived here in an unconventional way. But also because I really appreciate it all. You've done so much for all of us. And…you're one of the first people I've met who were sincerely kind to me. Also…I know now isn't the best of times here, with the attacks. Soon enough it will get worse. I thought you might appreciate something to cheer you up."

She softened at my words, and—was it just me or were her eyes a little watery? "Oh, Bella," she said softly, "That alone is thanks enough."

I shrugged, putting the box down on the desk in front of her.

Carefully, she unwrapped it, and opened the small white box.

Her mouth became an O as she gingerly held up the polished necklace from inside.

The necklace was a small, delicate glass and gold hourglass that was filled half-way with sparkling chips of crimson rubies, hanging from a thin gold chain.

**http: // www (dot) natures jewelry (dot) com/ itemdy 00 (dot) asp? c=& scat=& GEN1=& Parent=& T1=J34725& PageNo=1& pos=3#top**

"I—I found it in a Muggle jewelry store catalog that was lying around the Leaky Cauldron during the summer. I thought it was fitting," I said nervously, "I hope you like it…"

Then, I was suddenly enveloped in a tight hug.

A smile broke out on my face as I hugged my mentor back.

"Thank you Bella," she said, "It is beautiful—the best present I've ever gotten from a student."

I simply beamed at her, feeling twice as happy as before. "Thank you, Professor."

She released me from the hug and patted my cheek kindly, in a grandmotherly fashion.

"Now, I suppose you'd best be off soon. The halls are not safe at night."

I nodded, grimacing. "I know, Professor. I might be next…not many know of my parents."

Again, she softened. "Bella, I doubt anyone could lay a hand on you. It would be a mistake for anyone to try."

* * *

**OKAY-- That's two chapters I'm posting tonight.**

**Sorry for the wait, but, if you didn't know, my laptop died a couple of weeks ago and I finally managed to get my documents from off the hard drive. **

**My parents said they'll buy me a new one for my birthday. Yay right? Not really, considering my birthday is in DEcember--eight months away. **

**Joy.**

**A few more things:**

**1-- I'm on Spring Break now, so expect an update by Friday. No promises though.**

**2-- Incase none of you have checked it out, I've added a new HP story--Phoenix Potter. I hope it isn't too...cliche. I really like it. Probably one of my best stories, along with Magical Secrets.**

**3-- Do any of you read the Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel series? I'm thinking of writing a fanfic for it. PM or review if interested. If not, I'll save myself the trouble and NOT write it.**

**

* * *

  
**

**VERY IMPORTANT-- FOR THE SEQUEL: **

**Should I bring Renesmee into it? I think I will, but I want to ask. i'll post a poll soon...**

**REVIEW!!!  
**


	18. May 8, 1993: If Looks Could Kill

**A/N: First off, to reply to one of my reviewers:**

**vampsrulewolvesdont - LOL, you were right on your prediction. BTW-- love the username!  
**

* * *

**May 8****th****, 1993**

Hermione and I had gone to the library. She'd thought of something and wanted to look it up. I had followed.

If we hurried, we'd get to the Common Room with just enough time for me to change into my Quidditch robes and go down to the Quidditch Pitch for the match.

Now, we knew what monstrosity the Chamber of Secrets contained—what petrified several students and a cat, and had killed a young girl fifty years ago—what was threatening Hogwarts, my home. And no one—_no one_—messed with my home. Not while I was here.

When I got a hold of that Basilisk…oh, it would regret the day that a toad sat upon its egg.

Part of me mused internally if any of my teachers were muggleborn, too, like I supposedly am, and in danger as well. They would have ample cause for concern, like the students. I knew Dumbledore is in no danger—of course, he's too powerful—and Snape—he is the Head of Slytherin and nary is there a muggleborn in the blood-purist house. Flitwick was safe, I infered, if he is descended from a Goblin or two. What about the others, I wondered. McGonagall? Sprout? Hooch? Madam Pomfrey?

I did not know. They all seemed to worry the same: for their students, and so I was unable to tell.

But now we knew what we were up against, and we could warn everyone.

So, Hermione and I departed the library together. Hermione had, very reluctantly may I add, torn the page from a very old and dusty library book, clutching the page in her hand tightly.

As we headed quickly back to the Common Room, we were using a small mirror to look around the corner. We'd inferred that indirect glances were the cause of the Petrification—looking at reflections or though ghosts or even cameras.

We never made it far from the library. As Hermione glanced in the mirror, she let out a loud squeak in fear, then froze, falling to the ground.

"Hermione!" I gasped. She was stiff, her eyes wide open, but glassy, and I knew that she had only been Petrified, not dead, thankfully. I swiped the mirror from the ground, because, personally, I'd rather be Petrified than killed.

Then I heard it—the sound of the Basilisk as it slithered through the halls, only out because two foolish students were foolish enough to be out like this. I was not a Muggleborn, but everyone, other than Harry, Ron, Hermione, the Headmaster, and the Heads of Houses and a few other professors, thought I was—including the Heir of Slytherin.

My eyes snapped shut as I whipped out my wand. Suddenly, I realized something: none of the victims had wands in their hands when they were Petrified. They couldn't have fought back—that was why no one heard the attacks.

I heard the Basilisk, hissing about its hunger and thirst for blood.

Uselessly, I tried to order it in Parseltongue. "_Go back to the Chamber! Leave us alone!_"

It did not obey nor pay me any heed.

I cracked open an eye, looking away from the great serpent. I gasped at it, viewing it poorly through my peripheral vision. It was at least fifty feet long, thick as a great oak tree, its scales a poisonous green hue. I saw its maw open, revealing great, long, poisonous fangs at least three feet long. I avoided even thinking about its eyes.

According to the old book Hermione and I had found, its only weakness was the crow of a rooster, but there were no roosters here. And I was no heroic, powerful witch. Sure, I was a little brave, apparently, but not enough to face down a bloody _BASILISK_, for Merlin's sake! I was only thirteen years old! A Second Year student!

I saw it looking at me, and coming to me, completely disregarding my Petrified friend, thankfully. She was safe-ish, for the time being. Me on the other hand…not so much.

"_Impedimenta!_" I cried, trying to prevent it from coming closer to me. Unfortunately, the jinx missed.

"_Confringo!_" I screamed, running. I heard the explosion behind me, and the Basilisk screech in pain. Good. "_Incendio!_" I heard the roar of a fire being ignited, but it went out swiftly.

Then, I tripped over something and was sent sprawling onto the floor. I heard the Basilisk right behind me, and I rolled to avoid it. That was smart, because the Basilisk had tried to strike, but had—literally—gotten a mouthful of the stone floor.

I felt the floor tremble when it spit out the rock, which landed precariously close to me head. I let out a terrified shriek, as I scrambled to my feet.

Its eyes were its key weapon. I pointed my wand over my shoulder and shouted out the Conjunctivitis Curse. The Basilisk roared, and I knew the spell had hit home.

I couldn't keep this up. I didn't have enough spells in my arsenal—nor did I have powerful enough spells. But I had to keep it up. Until a professor came. Someone. Anyone.

"_REDUCTO!_" I screamed, very, very loudly. Once again, the Basilisk shrieked. I tripped once more, but shakily stood. All this magic and running were wearing me out.

I heard it coming, and let out the loudest, highest pitched screech I had ever made or heard, hoping, praying, that someone—anyone—would hear. That a teacher would come.

I still had my wand in my right hand, the mirror in my left.

Unfortunately, I inadvertently looked down, and saw them—the sickly yellow eyes reflected in my mirror.

I felt my muscles lock in place, my body freeze even worse than the Full Body Bind Spell, as I felt to the ground, still locked in the position I'd been standing in. I couldn't move. Not a bloody bit. But my mind was active, alert. My wand and the mirror were still clutched tightly in my frozen hands—especially the wand.

I could still think. I could still see. I could still hear. Vaguely, I wondered if that was normal—if the others were as aware as I was—or if it was because I'd been the only one to have their wand in hand.

I heard the Basilisk suddenly slithering away, away from my best friend and I, away from the small scene of destruction it and I had made—well, mostly me, but still…

I knew my best friend lay, just as still as me, yards away from me.

Then, a small silence. Everyone would be down at the Quidditch Pitch. The game _should_ be starting now, but, instead, everyone would be wondering where I was. It'd take them hours, maybe even—

Then, I heard a scream from down the hall. Footsteps came running towards Hermione and me.

Professor McGonagall came into my vision, looking pale as a ghost and looking aghast, closely followed by a crowd of people—students, professors, and ghosts alike. The Transfiguration Professor quietly gasped. She stared around at the hallway, half destroyed by my brief battle with the Basilisk. "What in the…"

Frightened murmurings passed through the crowd, as they stared at Hermione and me, and the damage done in the hallway. Harry and I had both been suspected to be the Heirs of Slytherin. But now, one of the supposed '_Heirs'_ had been turned a victim.

Dumbledore came up, closely followed by Madam Pomfrey, both looked grim and sad—Madam Pomfrey looking pale and a bit frightened, too, for her students.

"Quiet!" Dumbledore called. The crowd fell silent immediately. "All students are to return to their House dormitories at once. Quickly as possible, now!"

Reluctant and frightened and shocked, my classmates left, save Harry and Ron, who didn't move an inch.

McGonagall looked at them both for a long moment before sighing. "I suppose you two should come as well."

Madam Pomfrey checked Hermione then me, confirming that we had both only been Petrified, not killed. She let out a breath upon realizing it. Then, I felt myself being magicked onto a stretcher and taken to the Hospital Wing and placed onto one of the sanitized white hospital cots. Hermione was on the one beside me.

Would they notice the nearly crumpled sheet of paper clutching tightly in Hermione's frozen hand, the key to the puzzle, and the answer to the riddle—what could save the school? And what would they think of the mirror in mine?

McGonagall noticed the mirror and managed to take it from my stiff grip, looking worried and confused. She looked to my friends. "Can either of you explain this?"

Both Harry and Ron shook their heads, looking utterly shocked.

"I will escort you back to Gryffindor Tower. I need to address the students in any case."

Dumbledore left, looking very troubled, soon after.

At that, it was only Madam Pomfrey, Hermione, me, and the other victims in the Hospital Wing.

* * *

Later that evening, I heard voices as people came into the Hospital Wing—Dumbledore, McGonagall, Sprout, Flitwick, Snape, and Madam Pomfrey.

"…You don't think they fought who or what ever Petrified them, Albus, do you?" McGonagall asked.

"Unfortunately, I think young Miss Swan did, yes." Dumbledore replied.

"What do you think could have occurred?" Snape asked calmly.

"I think Miss Granger was Petrified first, as she did not have her wand out. Miss Swan must have seen and had time to draw her wand and attempt to defend herself, hence the severe damage to the hallway."—_Oops_, I thought sheepishly, but not exactly regretfully.—"But she could not have dueled her attacker for too long. No….And, unfortunately, she grips her wand too tightly for it to be removed from her to examine the spells she used. I do believe she must have done a good amount of injuries to her opponent. Even outside at the Quidditch Pitch, everyone present could hear the inhuman shrieks. And most certainly everyone within the grounds heard Miss Swan's last scream."

Oh, so I can scream really loud. Cool…

Always good to know in case of an emergency...you know, _like the one right now!_

"Good set of lungs on that girl," Madam Pomfrey murmured, looking at me, still shocked.

Inwardly, I snickered at her comment.

"But what about Hogwarts? Do you think…?" Sprout began, uneasily, her eyes on Hermione and me.

Dumbledore sighed. "Yes. I fear that this may be the end of Hogwarts."

* * *

Many people came to visit their Petrified friends in the Hospital Wing. I could hear them.

Mrs. and Mr. Weasley had both come briefly. Mrs. Weasley, who seemed to include Hermione and me in her large family, looked so heartbroken that both Hermione and I had been Petrified. She told me that she'd arranged with Dumbledore for me to stay with them during the summer. I was doing a mental happy dance.

There were new rules in place, because of "recent events". All Quidditch practices and matches were to be postponed. All evening activities were cancelled. All students were to return to their House Dormitories by six o'clock _every_ evening. All students would be escorted to each lesson by a teacher. 'No exceptions.'

The outlook did not look good. I felt that Hogwarts would be closed, its inhabitants sent home.

I'd overheard several of my classmates apologize to Harry. A good few had come and apologized to me, even if they doubted that I could hear them.

Ernie Macmillian, accompanied by Hannah Abbott, (friends of Justin Finch-Fletchley, who had also been Petrified) had once come and visited me. Ernie looked apologetic, and took a deep breath before saying, "I don't know if you can hear me, Bella, but well, I'm sorry for suspecting you. I know you'd never attack one of your best friends, and then, of course, you were attacked. So, um, what I'm, er, trying to say is that, well, I believe you and Harry. I apologized to him as well earlier…"

Hannah spoke up, trying to be optimistic, "Professor Sprout says that the Mandrakes will be ready before long. They've been throwing loud parties lately. We just have to wait for them to begin to move into each others' pots. She said it should be before the end of this month! I'm awfully sorry, too, Bella. I should have known better. You are Muggleborn too, after all. I guess we were all so worried that we let it cloud our judgment…"

They weren't the only ones who came to apologize or visit Hermione and I. Harry, Ron, Fred and George, Ginny, and several other classmates came. Fred and George planned on bringing us a Hogwarts toilet seat to cheer us up, but Madam Pomfrey confiscated it. I wanted to laugh so badly! Ginny looked very worried and tired, like she was so vexed about something that she couldn't sleep.

I worried for her.

I wanted to scream out in frustration that it was a Basilisk. That Hermione and I had guessed who the girl who'd been murdered fifty years ago had been. That we'd surmised where the entrance to the Chamber was.

That the answer was in Hermione's hand, if only someone would notice…

But, of course, they didn't.

Figures.


	19. May 24 & 29, 1993: Nonverbal

**May 24****th****, 1993**

Eventually, I heard something that shocked me. Hagrid had been blamed and arrested soon after Hermione and I had been Petrified. Dumbledore had been suspended from his job as Headmaster. In my mind, I screeched and raged, "_NO!_"

But, of course, I had no choice but to remain woefully silent and motionless. I was trying to fight the spell that gripped me powerless, but it was useless. I was confined to my mind until the Mandrakes were ready.

In my heart, I was in tears, because I knew what others were too blind to see: Hogwarts had no hope with Dumbledore gone.

Indeed, I thought heavily.

When it rains, it pours.

I heard that exams were still on schedule, and internally smirked when I heard Ron say to Harry about Hermione, "…Mind you, she'll go crazy when she finds out that we've got exams in three days' time. She hasn't studied. It might be kinder to leave both of them where they are till they're over." Personally, I agreed.

I also learned that Harry and Ron, following Hagrid's instructions, had followed the spiders into the Forbidden Forest and met an old Acromantula named Aragog, which told them that Hagrid was innocent and that the last victim of the Basilisk from fifty years ago had, indeed, been killed in a bathroom, just as Hermione and I had predicted. And they'd inferred that it was Moaning Myrtle.

**

* * *

May 29****th****, 1993**

Finally, I heard that the Mandrakes would be stewed and the potion ready by that night. I was mentally doing counting down until I could move.

Harry and Ron were visiting, and I head Ron talking, when Harry suddenly noticed the paper clutched in Hermione's hand. I did a mental happy dance.

After getting it out of her taut grip, he read aloud the page, and noted the word Hermione and I had written, in case this happened.

"…The Basilisk kills people by looking at them. But no one's died—because no one looked it straight in the eye. Colin saw it through his camera. The Basilisk burned up the film inside it, but Colin just got Petrified. Justin…Justin must've seen the Basilisk through Nearly Headless Nick! Nick got the full blast of it, but he couldn't die _again_…and Hermione and Bella must've used that mirror Bella was found with. I bet they realized it was a Basilisk…"

"What about Mrs. Norris?" Ron asked.

"The water! The flood from Moaning Myrtle's bathroom! I bet you Mrs. Norris only saw the reflection!"

I listened as they pieced it together.

"Let's go to the staffroom!" Harry said, jumping up. "McGonagall will be there…"

But as they stood to leave, I heard McGonagall's voice, magically magnified, echoing throughout the castle.

"_All students to return to their House dormitories at once. All teachers return to the staffroom. Immediately._"

"Not another attack! Not now!" Harry exclaimed, as they ran, leaving the Hospital Wing.

Now, I guessed that, because _all_ teachers and students were to go, I assumed it was worse. A death.

Blind fear gripped my heart.

I knew Harry and Ron well. They were my brothers, in all sense but blood. They, having figured out where the entrance to the Chamber is, would go in the Chamber. They would get themselves killed! I couldn't allow that! And I most certainly couldn't wait until this evening when I got the Mandrake Restorative Draught!

There had to be a way to escape this Petrification!

A spell, maybe…?

Finite Incantatem! Of course! It reversed a spell's effects!

But…I was Petrified. I couldn't speak.

And, naturally, it would take a _lot_ of power for that simple spell to overcome such an immensely powerful petrification spell.

Then it hit me: Nonverbal magic! But…I'd never used it. And students learned it in SIXTH YEAR! I was in _Second_!

But, I had to try.

Focusing, putting all the pent up frustration and determination to use, imagining myself being able to move, thinking stubbornly, _Finite Incantatem!_

I blinked.

Almost immediately, I felt my stiff limbs relax, going darn near limp onto the Hospital cot.

I coughed loudly and inhaled deeply. My body felt so stiff!

I leapt off the cot, landed wobbly, almost falling, and went to Hermione's cot. I gripped her cold, stiff hand reassuringly. "I'll stop them from doing anything stupid, I promise! I'll be back!"

At that, I took off, to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, to help my friends.

* * *

Madam Pomfrey had been working on some paperwork in her office, trying to distract herself from the fact that young Ginevra Weasley had been taken into the Chamber of Secrets, when she suddenly heard a loud cough. She jumped, startled. Shaking her head, she chalked it up to the anxiety and sleeplessness, going back to her work. But then, she heard someone say something unintelligible, then running footsteps through the Hospital Wing.

She sighed to herself, setting down her quill, suspecting that a student had snuck up into the Hospital Wing to see who the new victim was, or to check on one of the others. When she got to the door, she saw no one, but decided to check on the others.

Mrs. Norris…normal. Check.

Colin Creevey…normal. Check.

Justin Finch-Fletchley…Check.

Bella Swan…gone…

Herm—wait, _what?_

All the blood drained from Madam Pomfrey's face.

Madam Pomfrey spun, looking back at the now empty cot. The soft white sheet had been thrown aside, as if Bella had been asleep and suddenly woken and fled.

But…she'd been Petrified. She couldn't have…

Panicking, Madam Pomfrey ran from the Hospital Wing, eyes wide, concern, worry, and even some fear in her gaze.

When she finally reached Minerva McGonagall's office, she was still bloodlessly pale and now breathing heavily.

She did not wait to knock—this was too urgent. Surprisingly, McGonagall was not alone in her office. Beside the other three Heads of House and the rest of the teachers, Dumbledore was there.

They all looked at her questioningly because of the urgency in which she'd burst in.

"Bella Swan!" the nurse gasped. "She's gone!"

A few minutes, all of Hogwarts's professors were in the Hospital Wing, huddled around the now-empty cot, looking utterly bewildered and a bit worried.

"This is not good," Professor Sprout murmured. "The Mandrake Restorative Draught would have cured her this evening. She couldn't have just gotten up and walked away…could she? I mean, she did have her wand practically glued into her hand…Would she even be aware of her surroundings?"

"No," McGonagall replied. "It would be impossible for her to escape the Petrification … Right?" She looked to Dumbledore, a bit confused—and Minerva McGonagall being confused is a very, very rare thing. But then again, these were very, very rare circumstances.

Dumbledore seemed to think about it for a moment before replying, "I doubt it, but it depends on the source of the Petrification. So, the question remains, who is the Heir of Slytherin this time, and what is the monster inside?"

"Don't forget where Miss Swan disappeared to." Snape added quietly.

The others looked at him oddly, almost disbelievingly. "What?" he asked irritably. "I simply do not think it is a good thing that one of the Heir's supposedly Petrified victims has vanished."

"Or been taken," Flitwick added quietly.

Uncertainty and worry and, in some cases, fear, took further root in on their faces.

It was not a good thing, both the girl's disappearance and the possibility of her being taken.

* * *

I was glad that I did not run into any one on my way to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

When I ran into the bathroom, I gaped at the sight before me. One of the sinks had sunk out of sight, revealing a large, deep, dark tunnel.

"It is really filthy down here," I heard an obnoxiously familiar voice from down in the drain. Lockhart?

"Shut up…We must be miles down the school," I heard Harry say.

I poked my head into the hole. "Harry?"

"Bella?" two voices chorused.

"Ron? Harry? What are you two doing down there with the Witless Wonder?"

"Hey!" Lockhart exclaimed, offended.

"Shut it you!" I snarled back. "Why are you all down there?"

"Ginny was taken into the Chamber by the Heir!" Ron yelled back. "Aren't you supposed to be Petrified?"

In reply, I sighed before jumping down the pipe. "Clear the way!" I yelled. After a long moment, I landed with a wet thud on the damp floor.

"I overheard you two talking about what you'd be doing. So, I managed to cast _Finite Incantatem_ nonverbally, somehow—don't ask me how I did that—and ran here, because I knew nothing I could saw would stop you, so I figured that one of the smartest Gryffindors may help two dummies, and then the Witless Wonder. And don't even start with me, you!" I exclaimed, pointing my wand directly at his nose.

He glared at me. "I still resent that."

I shrugged. "You earned it. Or would you prefer Dimwitted Dingbat?"

He huffed and continued to glare at me.

"Now, since the idiot is quiet, let's go."

**XXX**

When Mr. and Mrs. Weasley Flooed in, both Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall knew this would not be pleasant. Mrs. Weasley and Mr. Weasley practically included Bella Swan in their large family, as well as Harry. So, they knew, today was a double blow.

When McGonagall had sent them the owl weeks ago explaining Bella and Hermione's Petrification, both Molly and Arthur had come to visit the poor Petrified girls.

Now, they were coming again. McGonagall had sent a hasty letter that requested them to come, because it concerned Ginny. Now, she had to tell them that not only had their only daughter been taken into the Chamber, but also that Bella Swan had disappeared, presumably being taken as well.

But, internally, Minerva McGonagall was worried. Both Ginny and Bella were purebloods, even if few knew about Bella. The only reason could be that they'd discovered something about the Chamber. She presumed this about Bella and Hermione—they were her best students in their year, after all.

After Molly and Arthur Flooed, Minerva McGonagall told them what happened. Now, Molly sat in front of her desk openly crying, her husband beside her, equally forlorn, trying to comfort her.

Minerva McGonagall felt like weeping as well.

You did not have to be a mother to feel a mother's pain.

* * *

**Lucky reviews get two chapters in a day!**

**If you give me lots of reviews, you might get another in a little bit...  
**


	20. May 29, 1993: Inevitable

**May 29th, cont.**

"_Ginny!_" I nearly shrieked, suddenly fearful for my younger friend, as I ran to her inert side. Harry was at my heels.

"Ginny, wake up, wake up!" I muttered, shaking her shoulder.

"Ginny, please wake up," Harry muttered, nearly as desperate as I.

"She won't wake," a soft voice said that came from neither Harry nor I.

Simultaneously, we jumped and stood.

"_Riddle!_" I spat in realization, just as Harry said, "Tom—Tom Riddle?"

Riddle nodded, cold eyes flicking between us, as if calculating the best way to defeat us.

"What do you mean she won't wake?" asked Harry desperately, "She's not—she's not—?"

"She's still alive," Riddle replied, annoyed, as if we were wasting his time. "But only just."

Fingers probing around her wrist, the faint but constant pulse confirmed his words.

"Are you a ghost?" Harry asked.

"A memory," he replied vaguely, "Preserved in a diary for fifty years." He indicated the very diary we'd found in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom that was now lying near the statue's giant feet.

"You've got to help us, Tom," Harry said as he began to pick Ginny up. "We've got to get her out of here. There's a basilisk…I don't know where it is, but it could be along any moment…Please, help us—"

By that point, Harry was managed to lift Ginny half off the floor. He bent down, but froze.

"Did you see—?"

As he looked up at Riddle, his words died in his throat. Riddle had plucked Harry's wand from where he'd set on the floor when he and I were trying to wake Ginny.

"Thanks," he said, reaching for the wand. Riddle continued idly twirling the wand as a disturbing smile crept onto Riddle's blurred features.

"Listen," Harry said urgently, "_We've got to go!_ If the Basilisk comes—"

"It won't come until it's called," interrupted Riddle.

Harry, who'd been struggling to hold up Ginny's unconscious form, lowered her to the floor.

"What d'you mean?" asked Harry as I remained silent, the pieces falling into place. "Look, give me my wand—"

"You won't be needing it," he replied, his creepy smile broadening.

"What do you mean I won't—"

"Harry," I finally spoke up, drawing my wand, "Don't you get it? _He_ is the one responsible for this. In someway or another. It's all his doing."

"I've waited a long time for this, Harry Potter. Isabella Lestrange." Riddle said, ignoring my words, "For a chance to see you two. To speak with you."

"How did Ginny get like this?" Harry asked slowly.

"Well, that's an interesting question," Riddle said, quite pleasantly, "And quite a long story. I suppose the real reason Ginny Weasley's like this is because she opened her heart and spilled her secrets to an invisible stranger."

"What are you talking about?" demanded Harry.

"The diary. _My_ diary. Little Ginny's been writing in it for months and months, telling me her pitiful worries and woes—how her brothers _tease_ her, how she had to come to school with second-hand robes and books, how she didn't think famous, good, great Harry Potter would _ever_ like her…even though the famous, kind, wonderful Bella _Swan_ said there was a chance…

"It's very _boring_, having to listen to the silly little troubles of an eleven-year-old girl," Riddle continued, "But I was patient. I wrote back. I was sympathetic, I was kind. Ginny simply _loved_ me."

He laughed, a high, cold laugh that was scarily familiar from nightmares that had plagued me since infantry.

"If I say it myself, Harry, Isabella, I've always been able to charm the people I needed.. So Ginny poured out her soul to me, and her soul happened to be exactly what I wanted…I grew stronger and stronger on a diet of her deepest fears, her darkest secrets. I grew powerful, far more powerful than little Miss Weasley. Powerful enough to start feeding Miss Weasley a few of _my_ secrets, to start pouring a little of _my_ soul back into _her_…"

"What do you mean?" my best friend asked.

"Haven't you guessed?" he asked softly, eyes glinting. "Ginny Weasley opened the Chamber of Secrets. She strangled the school roosters and daubed the threatening messages on the walls. She set the Serpent of Slytherin on four Mudbloods, the Squib's cat, and _you_, Isabella Lestrange," he sneered.

"No," Harry whispered in disbelief.

"But I don't understand how you are moving," he spat, dark eyes not moving from my face. "According to her, the Restorative Draught shouldn't be finished by now. _How?_"

"Unlike the others who were Petrified, I had my wand in hand," I explained stiffly. "It was rather easy to reverse the Petrification your Basilisk caused."

"_Impossible_," Riddle snarled. "A mere _Finite Incantatem_ would never work!"

"And yet," I said with a curl of my lip, "it did."

He sniffed, but looked back to Harry, who had just repeated his disbelieving whisper.

"Yes," he replied, calmly, "Of course, she didn't _know_ what she was doing at first. It was very amusing…."

I listened calmly, though internally furious, as Riddle explained everything.

"…I decided to leave behind a diary, preserving my sixteen-year-old self in its pages, so that one day, with luck, I would be able to lead another in my footsteps, and finish Salazar Slytherin's noble work."

"Well, you haven't finished it," Harry said triumphantly, "No one's died this time, not even the cat. In a few hours the Mandrake Draught will be ready and everyone else who was Petrified will be all right again."

"Haven't I already told you," asked Riddle, "that killing Mudbloods doesn't matter to me anymore? For many months now, my new targets have been—_you_.

"Imagine how angry I was when the next time my diary was opened, it was Ginny who was writing to me, not you. She saw you with the diary, you see, and panicked. What if you found out how to work it, and I repeated all her secrets to you? What if, even worse, I told you who'd been strangling roosters? So the foolish little brat waited until your dormitory was deserted and stole it back. But I knew what I must do. It was clear to me that you were on the trail of Slytherin's heir. From everything Ginny had told me about you, I knew you would go to any lengths to solve a mystery—particularly if one of you were attacked. And Ginny told me the whole school was buzzing because you could both speak Parseltongue….

"So I made Ginny write her own farewell on the wall and come down here to wait. She struggled and cried and became _very_ boring. But there isn't much life left in her….She put too much into the diary, into me. Enough to let me leave its pages at last….I have been waiting for you to appear since we arrived here, though I hadn't known it was the two of you that would come. I have many questions."

"Like what?" spat Harry, fists clenched at his sides.

"Well," he began, still smiling, "how is it that _you_—a skinny boy with no extraordinary magical talent and a tiny slip of a girl that is far too powerful for her own good completely unaware of it—managed to defeat the greatest wizard of all time? How did _you_ escape with nothing but a pair of scars, while Lord Voldemort's powers were destroyed?"

Isn't it annoying how villains always talk about themselves in third person?

"Why do you care?" Harry asked, "Voldemort was after your time."

"Voldemort," Riddle said softly, "is my past, present, and future…"

With Harry's wand, he wrote fiery glowing words midair.

**TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE**

Waving his wand once, the letters rearranged themselves:

**I AM LORD VOLDEMORT**

"You see?" Riddle—Voldemort—whispered. "It was a name I was already using at Hogwarts, to my most intimate friends only, of course. You think I was going to use my filthy Muggle father's name forever? I, in whose veins runs the blood of Salazar Slytherin himself, through my mother's side? I, keep the name of a foul, common Muggle, who abandoned me before I was even born, just because he found out his wife was a witch? No, Harry, Isabella—I fashioned myself a new name, a name I knew wizards everywhere would one day fear to speak, when I had become the greatest sorcerer in the world!"

"You're not," Harry said quietly, after a long shocked moment.

"Not what?"

"Not the greatest sorcerer in the world," I snapped.

"Sorry to disappoint you and all that," Harry added, "but the greatest wizard in the world is Albus Dumbledore. Everyone says so. Even when you were strong, you didn't dare try and take over Hogwarts. Dumbledore saw through you when you were at school amd he still frightens you now, wherever you're hiding these days—"

"Dumbledore's been driven out of this castle by the mere _memory _of me!" Riddle interrupted Harry, his voice a hiss.

"He's not as gone as you might think!" retorted Harry, whom I knew was only trying to scare Riddle.

Voldemort's younger self opened his mouth, but froze.

Music was coming from somewhere, growing louder. I could feel the song's affect within me.

My heart felt warmer, as if the eerie music had rekindled my hope that Harry and I would get out of here alive with Ginny, a hope that my revelation about Riddle had doused.

A beautiful, swan-sized crimson bird had appeared, flying towards my best friend and I on crimson and gold wings. Its glittering golden tail was similar to a peacock's, long, trailing, and magnificent. Gripped in golden talons was a ragged brown cloth bundle.

The phoenix dropped the bundle into Harry's hands and landed gracefully on my shoulder, folding its great wings, and peering at me with rather beady black eyes down a long, sharp golden beak as it ceased singing.

"Fawkes," I whispered in hope.

"That's a phoenix…." said Riddle, shrewdly staring.

"_Fawkes_?" Harry breathed. Said phoenix gently squeezed my shoulders as he let out a soft trill.

"And _that_—" Riddle said, "that's the old school Sorting Hat—"

In realization, I froze, in comprehension of why Fawkes had brought it.

Riddle, apparently, did not know what _Hogwarts, A History_ had said about what could be produced from said hat, if by the correct person, and laughed.

"This is what Dumbledore sends his brave defenders! A songbird and an old hat! Do you feel brave now, Harry Potter, Isabella Lestrange? Do you feel safe now?"

Actually I did.

I knew the powers and significance of both that which the headmaster had sent. Glancing at Harry, I could tell form his face that he did not.

"To business, Harry, Isabella," continued Riddle, a broad, taunting smile on his not-quite-so-much-handsome-any-more face. "Twice—in _your_ past, in _my_ future—we have met. And twice I have failed to kill you. _How did you survive?_ Tell me everything. The longer you talk," he added softly, "the longer you stay alive."

Harry paused before replying. While he diverted Riddle, I plotted a way to divulge the secret hidden inside the Sorting Hat for when, surely, the Basilisk would come to its master.

Then, Riddle cut Harry off, mid-insult. "So. Your mother died to save her son and…charge. Yes, that's a powerful countercharm. I can see now…there is nothing special about you, after all. I wondered, you see. There are strange likenesses between us, after all. Raised by Muggles as orphans, though Isabella was not, though, in _your_ mind you may be. Probably the only three Parselmouths to come to Hogwarts since the great Salazar himself. We even _look_ something alike—dark hair, pale, slim…but after all, it was merely a lucky chance that saved you two from me. That's all I wanted to know."

Harry and I stood, tense. The Hat was still in his hands; Fawkes still perched on my shoulder.

"Now, Harry, Isabella, I'm going to teach you a little lesson. Let's match the powers of Lord Voldemort, Heir of Salazar Slytherin, against the famous Harry Potter and Isabella Lestrange, and the best weapons Dumbledore can give him."

He turned, facing the statue of Salazar Slytherin and hissed loudly.

"_Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four_."

Then, the statue's stone face _moved_—the mouth opening, making a great black hole, in which something stirred.

Instinctively, my eyes snapped shut as I backed away until I hit the wall. I felt Harry grope for a moment, then grab my hand.

Suddenly, I felt Fawkes' downy soft feathers brush my cheek as he took flight.

Then, something huge hit the ground, causing it to detectably shudder.

Riddle spoke. "_Kill them. Both of them._"

Going by my hearing, I could tell the great serpent was coming this way.

Swishing my wand, I silently—and successfully—cast _Obscuro! Obscuro!_

Fabric appeared over my eyes, and Harry's.

Still clutching hands, we ran, but simultaneously tripped—I guessed that Riddle had cast a Trip Jinx—landing heavily onto the floor.

There was a loud, explosive spitting sound above us, and then something heavy hit both Harry and I so hard me smashed into the wall. I let out a cry of pain as my ankle twisted painfully. I expected to be gobbled up then and there, but there was the sound of something thrashing wildly off the pillars.

Cautiously, I lifted the blindfold a bit, and gasped as I saw what was happening through squinted eyes. "Harry! Look!" I whispered in shock.

The Basilisk had raised itself high in the air, its blunt head weaving drunkenly between the pillars. Fawkes was circling its great head, dodging the Basilisk's saber-long and –thin fangs as is furiously snapped at him.

The Phoenix dived, sinking its golden talons into its sickly yellow eyes. Dark blood splattered everywhere—some every upon my robes and face. Its tail thrashed, nearly hitting Harry and I, and it turned and we could see that both its Petrifying eyes had been punctured by Fawkes.

Riddle was screaming again. "_NO! LEAVE THE BIRD! LEAVE THE BIRD! THE BOY AND GIRL ARE BHIND YOU! YOU CAN STILL SMELL THEM! KILL THEM!_"

As we ducked the serpent's tail, Harry seemed to remember he was still grasping the Sorting Hat.

"Put it on!" I hissed, "Now!"

He complied, just before we threw ourselves at the ground to avoid the swiping tail. There was a _thunk_ from Harry's head and the hat. He pulled it off his head, but froze before showing me its contents—a gleaming silver sword decorated with egg-sized rubies.

"_KILL THE CHILDREN! LEAVE THE BIRD! THEY ARE BEHIND YOU—SMELL THEM!_"

"Take it!" I whispered urgently as the Basilisk turned to find us. He needed the sword—I was armed with my wand already, whereas he was wandless.

The great snake lunged blindly at us, and we leaped apart, hitting the Chamber wall with a painful jolt. It lunged again, and its aim was true.

Side by side, we two best friends prepared for our death. Harry gripped the Sword of Gryffindor tightly in both hands. "Bella!" he exclaimed.

My hands moved without conscious thought, storing my wand and moving over Harry's to help with the heavy sword, as the serpent reached us and we threw all our meager weight with the sword, driving it into the roof of its mouth--

Warm blood drenched us, and I pushed Harry back a bit, just as a searing pain blossomed in my chest.

Looking down, I saw one of the Basilisk's great fangs sink deeper and deeper into my chest, beneath my collarbone.

I dropped first, my pale fingers slipping from the sword, collapsing to the bloody ground, dizzy, world spinning, pained...

Dying....

Death never felt so close in that moment, as both I and the Basilisk fell to the ground...both dying...

Death never felt so inevitable.


	21. May 29, 1993: Phoenix Tears

**VERY IMPORTANT MESSAGE FOR ALL READERS!**

I WILL NO LONGER BE UPDATING UNTIL A COPYRIGHTER IS STOPPED.

The story is called **"Bella** Phoenix Alexandra Lily Potter" in the Twilight & HP crossover category, by Imperial Immortal Blindmerman. It is nearly exactly my story, by the name of "Phoenix Potter Part One".

The only difference is he's adding in the Cullens to make it a HP/Twilight crossover!

Here is the url: http: /www. fanfiction. net/ s/6007460/ 1/Bella_Phoenix _Alexandra_Lily_Potter

It is my exact words, though in it is adapted so where i called Phoenix by Alex, he changed it to "Bella".

Please spread the word and report that $$#0%&. I have by now. the more reports they get, the sooner he should be stopped.

He is also had the FUCKING gall to review and ask when I was going to update, to which I replied:

"Um, how about when you delete your fucked up plagiarized copy of mine?"

I pm-ed him too, and he had the GALL to reply and claim he did not copy it. %$^%&$$^%!

Please report him!

I will not stand for my story to be copied, and will not be updating ANY of my stories until his copy is GONE.

please help, dear readers. If you've been a victim of this, you know how it feels. If you haven't, I hope you never do!

Please, please help!

* * *

OOOOOKAY! THE STORY WAS DELETED IN LESS THAN HALF AN HOUR! THANKS TO ALL WHO HELPED!

Mostly, thanks to **Kajoba** who alerted me about this! THANK YOU! THIS IS FOR YOU!

HERE'S A REWARD FOR EVERYONE!

* * *

**May 29th, cont.**

After the destruction of the Basilisk at our and the sword's hands, Harry and I had both crumpled next to each other, leaning heavily against the wall.

We had both been stabbed partially by the dying Basilisk's fangs, and we wretched them out of ourselves. Harry had been stabbed above the elbow in his arm and me in the torso, right below my right collarbone.

I could _feel_ the destructive Basilisk venom penetrating my system, working especially fast since it was so close to my slowing heart. Unbearable pain had bloomed in my body, my vision becoming foggy, but I could still make out the outline of Riddle standing above Harry and me, smirking mockingly.

Fawkes flew over, looking us both in the eyes. I think it was crying, but I couldn't be sure. My vision was too blurred…

"Fawkes," Harry said thickly, hoarsely, with difficulty. "You were fantastic, Fawkes…" I saw the beautiful red and gold swan-sized Phoenix lay its head where the great serpent's fang had pierced him.

"You are both dead, Harry Potter, Isabella Lestrange. Dead. Even Dumbledore's bird knows. Do you two see what it's doing? It is crying."

Crying?

I felt the now-blurrily outlined bird lay its head where I'd been stabbed with the fang. My vision suddenly cleared. I focused on Fawkes. Thick, pearly tears rolled down its beak onto my wound, causing steam to curl from it…

Was this death? The pain was fading, and it really wasn't so bad…

"I'm going to stay and watch you two perish, Potter, Lestrange. Take your sweet time." He grinned nastily. "I'm in no hurry…

"And so ends the brave Harry Potter and the powerful Isabella Lestrange. Alone in the Chamber of Secrets, defeated at last by the Dark Lord, who they so naïvely challenged. You'll be back with dear Lily Potter soon. She bought you twelve years each, but Lord Voldemort got you in the end." He grinned contemptuously. "Just as he knew he would."

The pain had left me.

By the looks of it, it had left Harry, too.

Phoenix tears…of course!

"Yes, I suppose the fools teaching you never taught you very much. With Dumbledore and McGonagall as the Heads of the school it is to be suspected, I suppose…"

Fury swelled in my stomach. My right hand clenched into a tight fist. Angrily, I leapt up, and punched Riddle in the face. He lost his balance and stumbled. Unfortunately, I heard two cracks. One from his jaw, the other from my hand.

Pain blossomed in my hand, but I ignored it, standing with Harry by my side.

Gritting my teeth in pain, I said, satisfied, "That felt good."

"You insolent little—"

"Cut to the chase, will you?" I asked sharply, impatiently, gritting my teeth.

"Phoenix tears…" he murmured scornfully, glaring at Fawkes, as the Phoenix flew to my shoulder, dropping something into my hands, which had been behind my back, one holding the Basilisk fang that had poisoned me. I knew what it was: the diary. "… healing powers…of course. No matter, I will prefer to kill you both myself."

Harry still had Gryffindor's sword, which he still held pointed at Riddle. I pulled the Basilisk fang and diary from behind my back.

I dropped to my knees on the floor, putting the diary in front of me.

"What are you—"

I stabbed the dairy with the Basilisk fang before he could continue. I had been right when I guessed that his power came from the diary. He screamed, as blood-like ink spurted from the diary in torrents.

Then, he was gone. Ink still dripped from the diary. The Basilisk venom had burned a sizzling hold right through it.

"Bloody hell," I murmured, glancing to Harry. "That is destructive," I said, as I held up the diary and looked at Harry _through_ the hole in the diary.

Harry and I grabbed our wands from where Riddle had dropped them.

Then I heard a feeble moan. I spun and saw Ginny stirring. I ran to her side, looking at her worriedly. Her brown eyes—just like her mother's—opened and traveled from me to Harry to the dead Basilisk to the bloody sword in Harry's hands to the still sizzling diary in my hand.

She gasped and then tears were pouring down her face.

"Oh, Bella, Harry! I wanted to tell you at breakfast, but I—I just couldn't! It was _me_! I didn't realize until after you and Hermione, Bella! I s-swear I d-didn't mean to! R-Riddle made me! And, h-how d-d-did you k-kill that thing? The l-last thing I r-remember is R-Riddle coming out of the d-diary!"

"Sh, Ginny," I comforted her, hugging her.

"I'm going to be expelled!" she sobbed.

"It's over." I consoled her. "Riddle's finished. Him _and _the Basilisk. C'mon Ginny, let's go back, okay? It's over. It's nothing but a memory."

Pun not intended.

After she stopped weeping, Harry and I helped her stand. Fawkes still was on my shoulder when we made our way back to where the ceiling had collapsed. Ron had obviously been working. He'd made a sizeable hole.

"GINNY!" He exclaimed, pushing rocks out of the way faster. "You're alive! I don't believe it! What happened? …Why are you two covered in blood, and…where did the bird come from?"

"He's Dumbledore's." Harry said.

I nodded and said, "Ron, get back from the rocks as far as you can—Lockhart too. I don't want anyone hurt."

When he said they were back, I drew my wand and flicked it at the boulders, experimenting with a nonverbal spell. There was a sound like an explosion, and the rocks were blasted away.

I grinned and pocketed my wand. Harry helped Ginny through the gap. I went next, followed by Fawkes and finally Harry.

"Why do you have a sword?" Ron asked Harry. "And why do you have that diary?"

"Later," Harry replied.

By now my hand had swollen and was purple. It hurt like hell.

"What did you do to your hand?"

"_Later_," I repeated Harry's words. "Where is Lockhart?"

"Back there. Memory Charm backfired. He hasn't a clue who or where he is."

We followed Ron to the smiling professor. "Hello," he greeted good-naturedly.

"So, any clue how we leave?" Ron asked, ignoring the now _truly_ Witless Wonder.

Before they could answer, Fawkes swooped down in front of us, waving his tail.

I smiled. "I do." And I proceeded to tell Ron, Ginny, and Lockhart that Fawkes, as a Phoenix, could carry immensely heavy loads…like people.

"…We've got to hold hands." I said. "Harry, you hold Ron's hand and Fawkes's tail. Ginny, hold Ron's hand and my wrist, carefully. I'm afraid my hand maybe broken. But that was worth it… Lockhart—"

"She means you!" Ron said sharply to Lockhart, who nodded.

"—Grab my hand." I had stuffed the diary into my robe pockets, along with my wand.

They all complied, and a sudden lightness seemed to spread throughout us all. Fawkes took off, flying towards the distant bathroom.

"Amazing!" I heard Lockhart exclaim. "This is just like magic!"

My pleasant-sounding laughter echoed in the pipes. Then we landed in the bathroom, and the sink repositioned itself. Moaning Myrtle was sulking. "You're not dead," she pouted to Harry.

"No need to sound so disappointed," Harry replied, grinning.

Fawkes landed on my shoulder again as we walked to McGonagall's office. With my uninjured hand, I knocked once on the door before entering.

There was a shocked silence as Dumbledore, McGonagall, Sprout, Flitwick, Snape, Madam Pomfrey, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley took in our appearance.

I knew we couldn't look that good, plus it was altogether a shock. There was me, now un-Petrified and covered in dirt, grim, muck, ink, and blood—mostly blood—, cradling an angry purple swelled hand, and beautiful graceful Fawkes sitting on my shoulder, regal as ever. Then Harry, also covered in some blood, carrying the bloody sword. Then Ron, covered in a _lot_ of dirt and a bit of slime. Then Ginny, coated in slime and tears, still looking pale. And finally Lockhart, who was smiling vaguely, staring off into distance. _I always knew he was demented…_

Dumbledore was standing by the mantelpiece, beaming at our lot. McGonagall had a hand clutching her chest as she took in deep breaths.

Even poker-faced Snape looked shocked at our sudden entrance and appearance.

"_Ginny!_" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, practically launching herself at her daughter, pulling not only Ginny, but also Harry, Ron, and I into a tight hug.

"You saved her!" she exclaimed. "You saved her! Bella—I thought….How….? What is going on here?"

"I think we all want to know that," McGonagall said weakly.

When Mrs. Weasley released us, Harry set the bloody sword and stained Sorting Hat on the desk, and I did the same with the mangled diary.

Madam Pomfrey's brown eyes zeroed in on my hand. She pulled out her wand and healed my hand for me asking me, "Should I even ask?"

I smiled tiredly, weakly, but genuinely. "Thank you, Madam Pomfrey, and probably not. I wouldn't, were I you."

"How did…" McGonagall began, still in shock. "How did you…I thought you were…"

I smiled to my Transfiguration Professor. "I was. Hermione and I had figured out that the monster in the Chamber was a Basilisk. We had gone to the library to check, and we were on our way back when the Basilisk found us. Hermione had used a mirror to look, so she was Petrified, before me. I drew my wand, alarmed, and grabbed the mirror. I tried to defend myself, and half destroyed that corridor accidentally…sorry about that, by the way. In the end, I got Petrified. Not a minute before you all came too," I added frowning.

"I was aware of my surroundings. I heard Harry and Ron find the piece of paper about the Basilisk in Hermione's hand, and I knew they would do something stupid and go into the Chamber. I still had my wand in my hand, and I decided I had to try to escape the spell. I somehow—and don't ask me how—managed to silently cast _Finite Incantatem_. So, I ran to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom and caught up with them…"

"You cast a nonverbal spell?" squeaked Flitwick, surprised and delighted.

"Um…yes?" I said back, my face bright red.

I think everyone blinked in surprise.

I continued telling to explain what'd happen, Harry assisting me.

"…So, Harry stabbed the Basilisk, but as he did, it tried to bite us. Harry managed to dodge, mostly, but I'm so stiff because of the darn Petrification that I could just barely. Anyhow, two of the fangs barely nicked us, but the poison had entered out system." I rubbed the still-sore spot on my torso. "But Fawkes cured us. Riddle didn't realize until it was too late—he was too busy mocking us. Saying how it was useless to try and fight, blah blah blah—you know, a typical villain monologue. We weren't skilled enough. That we hadn't learned enough. Then he said that with you two," I looked to Dumbledore and McGonagall, "as Heads of the school it was expected…"

My eyes narrowed at the memory, teeth grinding together. Stupid Riddle.

"And then…?" Snape prompted impatiently.

"She punched him," Harry said, grinning.

Dead silence.

"What?" McGonagall asked in disbelief after a beat.

"I punched him," I said, barely managing to keep a straight face. "I punched sixteen year old Lord Voldemort right in the face. That's how I broke my hand. It hurt like heck…but it felt good."

"Seriously?" Ron asked from beside me.

"How do you think you'd feel if you punched Voldemort?" I asked, grinning.

Harry and Ron laughed quietly. Ginny gave a watery smile, tears still in her eyes.

Dumbledore was smiling, amused. McGonagall was only looking at me disbelievingly, as if thinking, _Is she serious?_ Flitwick, Sprout, Madam Pomfrey, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley looked like they were trying very hard to suppress smiles. Snape was rolling his eyes at me. I could almost hear him thinking: _Typical Gryffindor…_

So, Harry and I continued our story. We avoided the part about Ginny and Riddle's diary.

"What interests me is how Lord Voldemort managed to enchant Ginny while my sources say that he is in Albania." Dumbledore said, and relief washed through me.

Mrs. Weasley sputtered.

"It was the diary," Harry said. "Riddle wrote it when he was sixteen…"

Dumbledore explained to the Weasleys that Voldemort was Riddle, and Ginny managed to explain about the diary through her sobs, and how she found it with the books she'd gotten from Diagon Alley.

"Miss Weasley, do not feel guilty. Much more powerful and wise witches and wizards have been tricked by Lord Voldemort. There has been no lasting damage done. The Mandrake Restorative Draught will be administered in a few minutes, and everyone is okay. There will be no punishment, my dear. Some bed rest should do you some good." Dumbledore said.

Mrs. and Mr. Weasley lead their daughter out of the room.

He looked to McGonagall. "Minerva, if you can go tell the kitchen, I think this deserves a feast." He looked to the other Heads of House and Madam Pomfrey. "Filius, Pomona, Severus, if you all will tell your students. Poppy, can you see to the Draught?"

They all nodded, and left.

It was only Dumbledore, Harry, Ron, and I left. Oh, and Lockhart.

"I seem to remember telling you three that if you broke any more rules, I would have no choice but to expel you…" I gulped at the Headmaster's words. "…which goes to show that the best of us eat our words sometimes. You three will all receive Special Awards for Services to the School and—let me see—I think two hundred points apiece for Gryffindor." My mouth dropped.

Dumbledore looked behind us, at Lockhart. "Why so modest, Gilderoy?"

"Er—Professor Dumbledore?" Ron said, "There was an accident in the Chamber. He tried to do a Memory Charm and the wand backfired…"

"Ah, well then, would you mind taking Professor Lockhart up to the infirmary?" Dumbledore asked Ron.

Lockhart suddenly spoke up. "I was a professor? Goodness. I expect I was hopeless, was I?"

I hid a satisfied smirk. Oh the irony…and karma…

Ron nodded to Dumbledore. "I'll take him."

Lockhart ambled out, followed by Ron who cast Harry and I curious looks before closing the door behind him.

"Sit down you two. I'm sure you are both exhausted." Harry and I complied. I felt unaccountably nervous. I could tell Harry was, too.

"You both must have shown me true loyalty down in the Chamber. Only that could have called Fawkes to you." As he spoke, Fawkes fluttered gracefully from my shoulder to the old Headmaster's.

"And you also met Tom Riddle," said Dumbledore thoughtfully. "I imagine he was most interested in you both…"

"Professor, Riddle said that both Bella and I are like him…Strange likenesses, he said." Harry spoke up.

"Did he now?" Dumbledore asked. "And what do you think?"

"But we are in Gryffindor!" I exclaimed. "And he was in Slytherin! I don't think he is anything like us! I mean—I…" I trailed off, more confused than ever.

Suddenly, the Sorting Hat's words echoed in my mind. "_Old Salazar would have loved you…_" I shivered.

"Professor," Harry began. "The Sorting Hat told me that I'd—I'd have done well in Slytherin. Everyone thought _we_ were Slytherin's Heirs because we can speak Parseltongue…"

"The Sorting Hat said the same to me," I added quietly. "'_Old Salazar would have loved you_', it said." Again, I shivered.

"You two can speak Parseltongue because Lord Voldemort—Slytherin's last living descendant—could. Unless I'm mistaken, he transferred some of his powers to you both the night he gave you those scars."

Almost subconsciously, my hand found the scar on my neck that was nearly always half hidden on my neck.

"Not on purpose, I'm sure," Dumbledore added.

"So we should be in Slytherin," Harry said. "But, why did it put us in Gryffindor?"

Dumbledore only peered at us above his glasses.

Slowly, I answered for myself. "Well, I asked it to. It wanted to up me in either Ravenclaw or Slytherin, but I asked it not to."

"The same for me," Harry said quietly.

"_Exactly_." Dumbledore said. "That is how you are different from Tom Riddle. It is our choices that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities. If you still want proof, look at the sword."

Harry picked it up, and I saw an engraving on the side.

"Godric Gryffindor." I read.

"Only true Gryffindors could have pulled that from the Sorting Hat." He told us. Maybe he was right after all.

"I suggest you two go down to the feast. I'll bet that you both are hungry after an adventure like that." He smiled.

I grinned. "Remind me never to get Petrified again. I felt like I haven't eaten in a month!" Harry and the Headmaster chuckled.

Lame pun intended.

"Now, go on you two. I need to write to Azkaban. We need our gamekeeper back. I also need to draft an advertisement for the _Daily Prophet_ …We need another Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Dear me, we certainly go through them quickly, don't we?"


	22. May 29, 1993: End of Book 2

**May 29th, cont.**

Harry and I stood to leave, when the door flew open, revealing Lucius Malfoy, looking absolutely furious. Oh, my _dear, dear_ uncle. Great! _Not._

Then, cowering behind him, was _Dobby_!

I gasped quietly, "Dobby?" Mr. Malfoy did not notice.

"So!" Malfoy spat. "You've come back!"

"Well you see, Lucius, the other eleven governors contacted me today. They'd heard that Arthur Weasley's daughter had been killed and wanted me back at once. They seemed to believe I was the right man for the job after all. Very strange tales they told me, too…Several of them seemed to think that you threatened to curse their families if they didn't agree to suspend me in the first place." Dumbledore explained.

I unsuccessfully tried to hide a smirk. Why wasn't I surprised? Oh right. It was a Malfoy. Duh!

"So, have you stopped the attacks?" Malfoy asked. "Have you caught the culprit?"

"We have," I replied, smiling widely.

He jumped, his eyes narrowing. Wonderful family, right? "Well, who was it?"

"The same person as it was last time," Dumbledore said. "But this time, Lord Voldemort was acting through someone else, using this diary." He held up the diary, peering at Malfoy through the hole burnt through it.

Suddenly, my eyes were drawn to Dobby and I tuned out of the conversation.

Dobby was pointing at the diary, then at my uncle, and then hitting himself in the head.

My eyes widened in realization. I nodded vigorously to the elf.

"A clever plan," Dumbledore was saying to Lucius Malfoy. "Because if Harry and Bella here"—Malfoy send me a sharp, brief glare, to which I responded with a bright, innocent smile—"hadn't found the diary, Ginny Weasley would have taken all the blame…Very fortunate that it was found, indeed, and Riddle's memories wiped from it."

Malfoy said in a strained, unhappy voice, "Very fortunate."

"We even know how Ginny got it!" I piped up, grinning madly. "But you already know how, don't you, _Uncle Malfoy_?"

His glare at me increased. "How would I know who that girl got it?"

"Because you gave it to her," Harry said, catching on. I swear he can read my mind some days. "You slipped it into her cauldron that day in Diagon Alley."

"Prove it!" he spat.

"Now, now. There is no need to do that," Dumbledore cut in, smiling to Harry and I. "But, I do advise you not to hand out any more of Lord Voldemort's old school things. If anymore appear, I'm sure Arthur Weasley, for one, will be sure to trace it back to you…"

Lucius Malfoy glared at Dumbledore, his hand twitching as if he wanted nothing more than to pull out his wand.

"Dobby, we are leaving!" He exclaimed, as he wretched the door to the office open, and the elf immediately followed his master.

Harry suddenly asked, "Sir, can we give the diary back to Mr. Malfoy?"

"Certainly, Harry. But hurry. The feast…"

We nodded, and I swiped the diary off the desk before we took off after my uncle.

Harry suddenly stopped, pulled off his sock, stuffed it in the diary, then caught up with me. I hid a grin, knowing his plan.

"Mr. Malfoy!" Harry yelled after his retreating form. "I've got something for you!"

Quickly, Harry shoved the stained, torn, still slightly smoking diary into my uncle's hands.

The sock fell from the diary into his hands and he tossed it over his shoulder, disgusted.

"You'll meet the same sticky end as your parents, boy. And I'm sure you will too, girl." He sneered, tossing the diary to the ground. "They were meddlesome fools too."

He turned to leave and called over his shoulder, "Come, Dobby. We are leaving."

But Dobby didn't move. He was holding up Harry's revolting, slimy sock as if it were priceless.

"Master has given Dobby a sock!" He exclaimed. "Master threw it and Dobby caught it—Dobby is _free!_"

"What!" Malfoy sputtered, furious, as he spun.

"You've lost me my servant, you two!" He snarled, as he pulled out his wand. "_Avada—_"

But Dobby cut him off.

"You will not harm Harry Potter and Bella Swan!" There was a loud bang as Dobby pointed at his former master, who was thrown back. He stood, glaring at our little trio, before leaving.

After Dobby thanking us repeatedly and leaving cheerfully, I had picked up the destroyed diary and stuffed it in my robe pocket. Harry and I set of to the Great Hall for the feast.

It was the oddest feast I'd ever been to. Everyone, save the teachers, Harry, Ron, and I were in their pajamas. Everyone was staring at Harry and me curiously because our robes—well, mostly mine—were practically coated in blood, grime, slime, and ink, but mostly blood.

And when they saw me walking around, their eyes bugged out in shock.

When I sat at my spot at the Gryffindor, next to Harry, Ron, Ginny, Fred and George, and the empty spot where Hermione normally sits, I was half asleep, exhausted from the stupid Basilisk. The students looked very, very, _very_ confused why they'd been (in some cases) woken and brought to the Great Hall, the teachers looking very relieved and cheerful, and then, why Harry and I were coated in blood and looking as if we had just been attacked by someone (which we had).

It was then that the doors open and the four other victims, including Nearly Headless Nick, of the Basilisk came in, looking very happy to be un-Petrified.

Hermione came running to Harry, Ron, and I, screaming, "You solved it!"

As she sat down, the other victims did the same and then Dumbledore came in, much to everyone's delight, save a few slippery Slytherins.

The Great Hall, which had been full of excited murmurs, fell silent as Dumbledore reached the front of the hall.

"I apologize for waking you all," he began, "but I have excellent news. As you have noticed, I am sure, the Heir of Slytherin's victims have been cured and released from the infirmary." Three of the four tables burst into loud applause at that. The Slytherins clapped politely, except Daphne Greengrass, another Second Year, who applauded and cheered enthusiastically as any Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, or Hufflepuff while the rest of her House sent her dirty, reproving looks.

"Also, I am delighted to announce that the Heir of Slytherin has been caught and Hogwarts is safe, thanks to Mister Harry Potter"—Harry ducked a bit, embarrassed—"and Miss Bella Swan." This time, I ducked too, my face as red as the still damp crimson stains on my robes.

There was very, very loud applause from the students, in which even the teachers enthusiastically participated in—excluding Snape, of course.

When it was silent again, Dumbledore continued, "And so, I believe the departure of the Heir deserves a feast! But before we begin, let us have a round of applause for Professor Sprout and Madam Pomfrey, whose Mandrake juice so successfully cured all who had been Petrified."

There was a very loud round of applause.

"And also in light of recent events," Dumbledore added, "as a school treat, all exams have been cancelled!"

This time, one might have thought an explosion had gone of inside the Hall, as every student—bar one—burst into applause and cheers. Hermione, however, looked devastated, and I saw her mouth the words, to herself: _What? Oh no!_

I laughed as I cheered and clapped.

At that, Dumbledore sat down. I jumped when the food appeared.

Hermione, who was sitting next to me, was grinning ear to ear. She asked Harry and me what had happened after she'd been Petrified.

Harry only said to me, "You explain," before helping himself to some Treacle Fudge. I explained, with most of the students in the vicinity listening, curious, about how I attempted to duel the Basilisk and was Petrified and the rest. Her eyes were saucers, her mouth gaping.

"You cast a nonverbal spell?" She gasped. Several nearby, including Percy, were gaping. Fred and George laughed and Fred said to Percy, "What's wrong, Perce? Upset that a Second Year can do magic you can't?"

Everyone nearby laughed, helping themselves to the food.

Minerva McGonagall couldn't suppress the grin when she noticed the amount of points that Gryffindor House had.

"_Yes_!" She exclaimed. Beside her, Snape was audibly grinding his teeth together.

She couldn't help but rub it in a bit. "So, how many points is it that Slytherin has?"

He only glared at her and said, through clenched teeth, "I'm sure you bloody well know the answer to that, Minerva."

Smirking a bit, McGonagall looked to her husband on the opposite side of her. "Albus, just how many points did you give them?" asked the Deputy Headmistress a bit loudly.

She was very aware of Snape listening.

Dumbledore twiddled his thumbs, feigning innocence. "Oh, er, two hundred points."

"Oh!" McGonagall exclaimed, happily, still feeling giddy.

"Each." He added, a bit guiltily.

On her opposite side, Snape had been taking a sip of his drink, which he nearly spat out. He coughed repeatedly, disbelievingly, looking absolutely livid as he ground his teeth together. Once again, the House cup had slipped through his fingers. Once again, due to Potter, Swan, Weasley, and Granger. He really, _really_ hated them.

Had he mentioned that yet?

Sometime near 3, the doors burst open and Hagrid came in. "Sorry I'm late. The owl that delivered my release papers got all lost and confused…Some ruddy bird named Errol."

I laughed as Ron went as red as his hair and said, loudly, "Ron, don't you have an owl named Errol?"

The feast continued, with loud conversations and laughter amongst everyone.

At some point, I heard someone exclaim loudly, "Hey! Look at the House points! We're in the lead!" I glanced over and saw, to my delight, that Gryffindor was _way_ ahead of Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff.

Hermione looked to me questioningly. "Just how many points did you all get?"

"Two hundred," Harry muttered.

Hermione blinked.

"Each?" I added hesitantly.

Unfortunately, whoever exclaimed about the points had been heard by the professors.

McGonagall looked over and I could almost hear her exclaim, "_Yes!_"

Snape's eyes narrowed as he glared at Harry, Ron, and me. I couldn't hide my smile as I saw McGonagall say something to Snape. I wonder….

* * *

Minerva McGonagall couldn't suppress the grin when she noticed the amount of points that Gryffindor House had.

"_Yes_!" She exclaimed. Beside her, Snape was audibly grinding his teeth together.

She couldn't help but rub it in a bit. "So, how many points is it that Slytherin has?"

He only glared at her and said, through clenched teeth, "I'm sure you bloody well know the answer to that, Minerva."

Smirking a bit, McGonagall looked to her husband on the opposite side of her. "Albus, just how many points did you give them?" asked the Deputy Headmistress a bit loudly.

She was very aware of Snape listening.

Dumbledore twiddled his thumbs, feigning innocence. "Oh, er, two hundred points."

"Oh!" McGonagall exclaimed, happily, still feeling giddy.

"Each." He added, a bit guiltily.

On her opposite side, Snape had been taking a sip of his drink, which he nearly spat out. He coughed repeatedly, disbelievingly, looking absolutely livid as he ground his teeth together. Once again, the House cup had slipped through his fingers. Once again, due to Potter, Swan, Weasley, and Granger. He really, _really_ hated them. Had he mentioned that yet?

**END OF BOOK 2**


	23. December 1993: Black and Pettigrew

**Chapter 23**

**Late December, 1993**

Today was a Hogsmeade visit day. Hermione and Ron had gone on, and Harry had followed under his father's cloak.

I was not allowed to go to Hogsmeade, so I had been practicing Disillusioning Charms so I could follow.

Really, the form I needed to get signed to allow me to go was a cruel joke. I did not really have a legal guardian—much less parents. If I even did have a legal guardian, no one had told me. It was infuriating.

Anyways, I'd perfected my Disillusionment Charms. I had been invisible as I sat with Hermione and Ron and Harry (who was under the Invisibility Cloak) in the Three Broomsticks pub, when several teachers walked in. I ducked below the table, as well as Harry.

We listened to their conversation. It was Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, Hagrid, and the Minister of Magic himself, Cornelius Fudge. Madam Rosmerta eagerly joined their conversation.

"…How are we supposed to teach with those horrors floating around?" asked McGonagall. I heard Flitwick state his agreement.

"All the same, they are here to protect you all from something much worse…We all know what Black is capable of." Fudge replied.

My curiosity peaked. They were talking about Sirius Black.

"Do you know," Madam Rosmerta said thoughtfully, "I still have trouble believing it. Of all the people to go over to the Dark Side, Sirius Black was the last I'd have thought…I mean, I remember him when he was a boy at Hogwarts. If you'd told me what he'd become, I'd have said you'd had too much mead."

Fudge replied, "Oh, you don't even know the worst of the story of the three Potters, Black, and Swan. The worst isn't widely known…"

My insides went cold. I had a feeling he was talking about my…parents.

"The worst?" Rosmerta asked, curiously. "Worse than murdering all those people, you mean?"

"Most certainly," was Fudge's reply.

"I can't believe that. What could possibly be worse?"

"You say you remember him at Hogwarts, Rosmerta. Do you remember who his best friend was?" McGonagall asked.

"Naturally," Rosmerta replied with a small, humored laugh. "Never were apart, were they? I had them in here quite a lot. They used to make me laugh when they were. Quite the double act—Sirius Black and James Potter!"

Beside me, Harry dropped his tankard. I elbowed him just as Ron kicked him.

Harry's dad and Sirius Black had been best friends? And I thought my parents were crazy…

"Exactly. Black and Potter." McGonagall said. "Ringleaders of their own little gang. Both very bright, of course—exceptionally bright, in fact—but I don't think we've ever had such a pair of troublemakers—"

"I dunno," Hagrid chuckled. "Fred and George Weasley could give 'em a run fer their money."

"You'd have thought those two were brothers! Inseparable!" Flitwick chirped.

"Of course they were," Fudge said. "Potter trusted Black far beyond his other friends. Black was his best man when he married Lily. Then they named him godfather to Harry. Harry has no idea, of course. You can imagine how the idea would torment him."

I looked beside me, to Harry. He was gaping in shock and betrayal, his face pale.

"Because Black turned out to be in league with You-Know-Who?" Rosmerta whispered.

Fudge then explained how the Potters had used the Fidelius Charm and how it was Black's fault they were dead. He'd betrayed them—the Potters, I mean.

Then the conversation turned to me, much to my dismay.

"That's not even the very worst." Fudge said. "The biggest secret is very well hidden…" He paused, checking that no one could eavesdrop. "The biggest secret is Isabella."

"I've often wondered," Rosmerta said quietly, "why she was with the Potters. She's muggleborn, I mean. Why did Lily and James adopt her if they couldn't be sure she was a witch?" She paused. "Actually, I'm surprised she isn't in Hogsmeade today. I saw two of her friends—Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger—in here not too terribly long ago…"

I gulped, hoping direly that Fudge wouldn't open his big mouth and spout out my history. But, as per norm, my hope was in vain.

"Yes, there is a reason for that." Fudge said. "But there are two very different stories about her. One is the truth, the other a cover up. The public story goes that she was an orphaned muggleborn. Potters supposedly knew her parents before they died, and they knew she had magic, so they adopted her. When He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named killed James and Lily, he then tried to kill Isabella and Harry, as you know."

"So that isn't true?" Rosmerta asked, curious.

"The farthest thing from the truth, really," Fudge replied. "Isabella isn't muggleborn at all. But she may as well be an orphan. I trust you have heard of Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange?" Rosmerta nodded mutely, pale. Fudge continued quietly, "Only a few people know—Dumbledore, me, the professors of Hogwarts, the top people in the ministry, and who ever Swan told, I believe—but the Lestranges had a daughter."

I heard Rosmerta gasp quietly. "You—you don't mean—"

"I do," Fudge continued. "Isabella 'Swan's' parents were Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange, in You-Know-Who's top circle.

"Now, You-Know-Who had wanted to kill the Potters for a long while—for more reasons than one. But before that, Dumbledore, the Potters, and others who opposed You-Know-Who discovered that the Lestranges had a child. They rescued her—knowing how terrible a life that would be for a child—the Lestranges are not the best for parenthood, after all. Lily and James were the ones who actually rescued her—with Black and that Remus Lupin fellow helping."

Lupin? Remus Lupin? Our professor? I wondered. He knew Harry's parents? And helped save me from my wretched parents?

"Oh, I remember him," Rosmerta said. "He was very close to Lily, James, and Sirius when they were students, wasn't he?"

"Indeed he was," McGonagall said. "After the Potters were killed, he was going to take in little Isabella, as she had no family and Harry had his aunt and uncle, but he couldn't, because of his…condition. So Isabella went to a muggle orphanage. But after she came to Hogwarts, I recall Remus legally adopting her so she didn't have to go back….The poor dear. She had to grow up in that _terrible_ orphanage. I was the one who brought her the Hogwarts letter, you know, and took her to Diagon Alley. She was so thin…almost unhealthy. And you wouldn't believe how happy she was when I told her she could leave…" She smiled softly, deep in memories, apparently.

My heart softened through my anger toward Sirius Black. McGonagall really cared for her students, including me. And Professor Lupin really cared for me, apparently—adopting me legally, even though he'd never met me before this year—well, excluding when I was an infant.

McGonagall continued, "Anyways, he was very close to the Potters and Black. Poor man. One of his best friends betrays them all, causing two of his friends to be killed, and then kills the other…Poor Pettigrew."

Pettigrew? What the bloody hell was a 'Pettigrew'?

"Pettigrew?" Rosmerta spoke my thought, then added, "That little lump of a boy who always followed Potter and Black?"

McGonagall nodded. "Hero-worshipped them. Never quite in the same league, talent-wise. I was often sharp with him. You can imagine how I—I regret that now." Her voice was thick, like she had a head-cold or was about to cry. I figured the latter.

"There, there, Minerva," Fudge comforted her kindly. "Peter Pettigrew died a hero's death. Eyewitnesses told us how Pettigrew cornered Black. They say he was sobbing. 'Lily and James, Sirius! How could you!' He went for his wand then, but Black was quicker. Blew Pettigrew to smithereens…."

I felt tears prick my eyes—tears for the Potters and Pettigrew—tears of betrayal and sadness.

"…a finger!" Fudge exclaimed later, after telling of the scene the Ministry had found after Pettigrew's death. "That was all we could find of Pettigrew! He received the Order of Merlin, First Class. Black has been in Azkaban ever since."

"Is it true he's mad?" Rosmerta asked.

"I wish I could say it was," Fudge said regretfully. "He was quite unhinged for a while. But I met him on my last inspection of Azkaban. Most prisoners just sit there, muttering to themselves in the dark; there's no sense in them! But I was astounded how—how _normal_ Black seemed. He spoke to me quite rationally. It was very unnerving. You'd have thought he was merely bored—asked me if I'd finished my newspaper, cool as you please, said he missed doing the crossword!"

"But what do you think he broke out to do?" asked Rosmerta. "Good gracious, Minister, he isn't trying to rejoin You-Know-Who, is he?"

"I daresay that is his eventual plan. For now, I believe he's going for revenge upon Harry Potter and Isabella Swan." Fudge replied bitterly. The remaining blood in my face drained.

"You know, Cornelius," said McGonagall, "if you're dining with the headmaster, we'd better head back to the castle."

One by one, they left the pub.

Hermione and Ron could only stare at Harry and me, both bloodlessly pale, at a loss for words. I, too, was wordless, for once in a long time.

* * *

As I walked towards the school, invisible because of a well-casted Disillusionment Charm, I was lost in thought, hardly aware of the pelting, freezing, icy rain that was both soaking and freezing my robes.

Why did none of them tell Harry or me?

I couldn't imagine how Harry felt. I mean, his parents' best friend betrayed them. He may not have killed them, but he was the reason the Potters were dead and Harry and I had been attacked by Voldemort—not once, but three times, to date.

Dumbledore. McGonagall. Hagrid. All the other teachers. The Weasleys. Cornelius Fudge. They all had known, and yet never cared to tell us? And Professor Lupin, too…

Without even planning to head there, I realized I was standing in front of the door to Professor Lupin's office, alone.

I hesitated, then knocked twice on the door.

The door opened, revealing Lupin, looking baffled. He looked around in front of the door, like I was invisible. Just as he began to close the door, I realized I hadn't removed the Disillusionment Charm yet. "Wait!" I exclaimed, snapping my fingers. Then, I was visible again.

Professor Lupin quirked an eyebrow. "Should I even ask why you can perform a Disillusionment Charm—much less why you were using it?" he asked with an amused grin.

I smiled weakly; my thoughts too revolved around the overheard conversation to even truly smile, and replied, "I wouldn't, sir. If it isn't too much trouble, might I speak with you?"

He nodded, opening the door to his office wider for me.

I entered his office and sat at the chair opposite his desk, beside which sat a box or cage or something square covered with a thick cloth. Something was moving in it. I regarded it with interest for a moment, and then realize I was soaked to the bone from hiking back to Hogwarts through the sleet. Swiftly, I flicked my wand, drying myself, my robes, and the small puddles of water that I'd inadvertently left in my wake.

As Professor Lupin sat down at his desk, I noticed how tired he looked. He had dark circles under his eyes and his already loose robes seemed to fit him even looser.

"How was the transformation last night?" I asked him. I had figured out that he was a werewolf. Hermione had as well. I knew last night was the full moon.

The man sputtered. "You—you know?"

I smiled. "Of course. I haven't told anyone, don't worry. Hermione knows too; she figured it out…" I paused then added, "I don't think Professor Snape likes you. At all."

Lupin chuckled. "That he does not. He assigned the werewolf essay so people would discover it and run away in fear, writing their parents and trying to get me fired. And yet, you hardly seem frightened…"

"Should I be?" I asked, confused.

Lupin gave me a surprised look. "Yes, you should. Normal people are! I'm dangerous! I could hurt you or another student!"

"You forget several things," I interrupted. "One, I'm not a normal person. Two, you most certainly are _not_ dangerous. Three, you would not hurt a student, I can see that. And four, it is not like it is your fault. I'm certain you did not ask for your…little problem."

He looked surprised at my boldness, but sighed, then asked, "Would you care for some tea?"

"Sure, Professor." I replied.

"So, did you just come to ask about my transformation, or was there something you wished to speak about?" he asked as he made the tea.

I hesitated, but then bluntly asked, "Can you tell me about how you, the Potters, and…others saved me from the Lestranges? And, well, I—er—heard that you legally adopted me from the orphanage when I came here. Is it true?"

Lupin blinked, then sighed. "Yes. It is true.

"For your first question, I can. I remember it clearly..." He explained it all, before adding, "I remember even then, you and Harry were best friends. You were like Lily and James's second child." He paused and quietly added, "They cared for you so much. They didn't even care that you were the daughter of top Death Eaters. Lily and James adored you as much as they did Harry. They really loved you, you know…" he trailed off.

"After James and Lily were killed, as well as Peter, and Sirius was…" he paused, then continued, "I was very much alone. Finding work as a werewolf is not easy. I am poor, and I was constantly moving. Before they died, Lily and James legally changed your last name, to protect you and deter the Lestranges from discovering your location. They legally adopted you, too, and named me your godfather.

"I wanted to take care of you, Bella. I really did. But I was not fit to care for you. We—Dumbledore, me, and the others that fought the Death Eaters—decided for you to go to the orphanage—although we cast wards to protect you and monitor you. In your earlier years, several of us constantly trailed you…"

A realization hit me. "That's why…" I murmured. "That's why McGonagall, Dumbledore, Hagrid, you, and a few others look so familiar…"

"You remember them?" he asked. "You remember us?"

I nodded. "Certainly, professor. I remember seeing you when I was about seven; I had gone with the orphanage matron when she was going shopping. I fell and cut my knee up pretty badly. There was a crowd, and I lost the matron as I'd fallen. You showed up and helped me catch up with the matron. When I turned to thank you, you'd gone. But my knee had oddly been healed. Thank you for that."

He smiled and nodded, and i continued, "I also remember one instance; the matron had taken all of us at the orphanage to visit the beach, although it was more atop a cliff, with the sea crashing against the rocks below. I always disliked going there. It was like a…I don't know…gut feeling, an instinct. Like something there was just…wrong. Evil.

"But anyways, back at the orphanage, I never had many friends. I was too…studious, too academic. I nearly always had my nose in a book. It was summer then, I recall. I was about nine, almost ten. I had been reading a book, sitting alone at a picnic table. The others were far off, playing and running around. I had wanted to be a bit far off because of that…feeling. It made me feel nauseous, actually.

"There wasn't really anyone else nearby, except an elder couple…" I grinned. The memory of thinking them a couple was ridiculous, but also…well, it fit, you know? "Anyways, I had kept reading, enjoying the sun. I was surprised when the older couple sat on the opposite side of the table. I remember them clearly, and now I realize that it was Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall.

"I chatted with them briefly, I recall," I continued, smiling. "They asked me how I was doing, how life at the orphanage was, et cetera. I even remember Professor Dumbledore offering me a lemon drop. Then, as I was about to leave, I remember Professor McGonagall saying something peculiar. 'We'll see you soon, Bella,' I think it was. She said it so quietly, I hardly heard her. I nearly forgot it until I came here…"

Lupin chuckled. "You are very perceptive—you were as a child, too, I recollect."

I paused, thinking back to one of my very earliest memories—so early, it was fuzzy. But I could remember it well enough…

"Professor Lupin, do you have a picture of Lily and James Potter? I've never seen a photo…" I asked, a bit hesitantly.

He pulled out an old, worn moving photo. In it were four people: a pretty woman with long, dark red hair and familiar, distinctive almond-shaped green eyes; an oddly familiar, tall, thin, handsome, mischievous-looking man with untidy black hair and hazel eyes framed by glasses; a small, black haired, green eyed infant boy that looked just like his father, except for his eyes, even in infancy; and lastly, a small, thin, pale little baby girl with dark brown hair, chocolate brown eyes, soft features, and an odd innocent beauty to her, that I knew would be gone before the age of three. The smiling, giggling infant boy was held up by his laughing father and the peaceful girl held up by the woman, who was smiling down lovingly at the two infants.

A thought struck me. I could never remember seeing a photo of Lily and James Potter, but I knew their faces—I _knew_ them, albeit faintly, like from a dream.

We spoke for several minutes longer about a past that I could not fathom otherwise.

Eventually, he spoke again, "After Professor McGonagall took you to Diagon Alley and the Burrow, she and Dumbledore wrote me about your starting school. They mentioned how happy you were to leave the orphanage, so I thought you would not enjoy returning. I went to the orphanage and adopted you. That is why you stayed with the Weasleys during the summers."

There was a long pause, until I thought of something. "So, you could give me permission to go to Hogsmeade without using a Disillusionment Charm and risk losing House points?"

He chuckled. "Yes, I could."

I did a happy dance, unable to hide or suppress the happiness I felt. I actually had a family. Or, at least, the closest thing to a family that cared.

**XXX**

The night after the celebratory party (celebrating our win over Ravenclaw), I was woken by a terrified yell. I hadn't been asleep very long, or deeply anyways. I knew who it belonged to—Ron. I shot out of bed, threw my dressing gown on and hurtled into Harry and Ron's dormitory.

I entered in time to hear Ron exclaim to Harry, "Black! Sirius Black! With a knife!"

"_What_?" Harry and I exclaimed as one.

"Here! Just now! Slashed the curtains! Woke me up!"

"You sure you weren't dreaming?" asked Dean.

I shook my head, holding out the shredded curtains for them all to see. "Someone was definitely here."

They all scrambled out of bed and we all hurried to the common room.

Other Gryffindors joined us swiftly.

"Who shouted?"

"What happened?"

Testing myself, I whispered an incantation, pointing my hand at the dying fire in the fireplace. The flames became alive yet again, lighting the dim common room.

I hurried from the common room, not that anyone noticed, towards Professor McGonagall's quarters. I knocked on the portrait-door.

She opened it after a few moments, looking tired and confused, her hair oddly out of its customary bun, and in a long braid.

"What is it, Miss Swan?" she asked sternly, "Why are you out of bed?"

Hurriedly, I said, "Professor, you need to come to the common room! Something's happened!"

She nodded and swept from the doorway to the common room, with me in her wake, following closely, matching her brisk pace.

I entered the common room first, followed by the Head of Gryffindor, who loudly slammed the portrait behind her furiously, drawing everyone's attention to her. All of Gryffindor was in the common room now…so that was partially the cause of her anger.

"I am delighted that Gryffindor won the match, but this is ridiculous! Percy, I expected better of you!"

"I certainly didn't authorize this, Professor!" Percy exclaimed, puffing himself up indignantly. If there was one Weasley that annoyed me, it was him. "I was just telling them to get back to bed! My brother Ron here had a nightmare—"

"IT WASN'T A NIGHTMARE!" Ron yelled. "PROFESSOR, I WOKE UP, AND SIRIUS BLACK WAS STANDING OVER ME, HOLDING A KNIFE!"

McGonagall stared at him doubtfully for a moment. "Don't be ridiculous, Weasley, how could he possibly have gotten through the portrait hole?"

"Ask him!" ron exclaimed, pointing at the portrait of Sir Cadogan. "Ask him if he saw-"

The Transfiguration Mistress pursed her lips, glaring suspiciously at Ron, before opening the portrait and facing the painted knight. The whole common room waited with baited breath.

"Sir Cadogan, did you just let a man enter Gryffindor Tower?"

"Certainly, good lady!" he cried.

There was a stunned silence that only I interrupted. "Are you mad?"

Many eyes flicked to me and my cheeks colored. McGonagall ignored me, staring at the portrait, her rage swelling.

"You-you _did_?" she said, shocked, "But-but the password!"

"He had 'em!" Cadogan explained. "Had the whole week's, my lady! Read 'em off a little piece of paper!"

The Head of Gryffindor stepped back into the common room, eyes narrowed furiously, face white as chalk.

"Which person," she asked in a shaking tone, "which abysmally foolish person wrote down this week's passwords and left them lying around?"

There was utter silence, broken only by the smallest of terrified squeaks, and this time, it wasn't me.

Slowly as he trembled from his head to his fluffy-slippered toes, Neville Longbottom raised his hand into the air.

I winced. This would not be good.

* * *

None of Gryffindor slept that night, all of us in the common room, terrified, knowing the castle was being searched as we waited. Unable to simply sit there and revel in fear, I began working on a Potions essay do this week.

Professor McGonagall returned at dawn, with news that Black had, once again, escaped.

Shivers ran up my spine at the thought of Black being in the castle and the tower, so near. Part of me was beginning to fear him like I feared my mother and father. My deranged second cousin was in the castle, looking for Harry and me, wanting revenge. Mostly, though, I felt contempt for him because of his betrayal to the Potters and Professor Lupin and that Peter Pettigrew.

But I was not mad enough or stupid enough to want to go after him.

I'd be happy to never see him in my life.

If only that were the case.

* * *

**AN: Okay, I'm so SO sorry for the long wait. I got sick for a while and my mom took away my laptop to make me rest. Then I was working at a camp for a week. And then I was out of town for a little while...**

**But still, that's no excuse. Terribly sorry. I'm also working on a new story-HP of course-but it will be much different. Recently, my favorite character changed, after I reread the series, ****and is now... SEVERUS SNAPE. Yay!**

**So the new story is going to be called "Hand of Sorrow"-name inspired by the song of the same song by Within Temptation and a video I saw on YouTube called "THE PRINCE'S TALE-Within Temptation- Hand of sorrow (With lyrics) A Tribute to Severus Snape". I highly recommend it. The story is totally unrelated to the video and song, but the song just fits Severus so well. The story itself will be an SSOC pairing-with the OC being, according to _moi_, Civia Potter-the twin sister of James Potter. (cue dramatic music!) **

**The time frame will be in the sixth and seventh book, and I've already worked out the entire plot. Now I'm just writing it! Yay!**

**So, Review and tell me if you're curious to find out more. I'll also be looking for a Beta for the story. If you're interested, PM me please!**

**Okay, BTW- you all are awesome, especially any of you who read all my crap in ANs and review anyways despite me updating so...un-frequently.  
**

**Thanks!**


	24. NEW USERNAME

HELLO MY FAITHFUL READERS-

I'm here to tell you that I, the author previously known as Twilight4eternity, am changing my username to

The name is coming from a character in a new story I'm working on-obviously a Harry Potter SSOC. ;)

I just love Severus and couldn't resist. YAY!

Wishing you well, civia . snape


	25. June 6, 1994: End of Book 3

**June 6****th****, 1994**

On the day of Buckbeak's execution, we—Harry, Hermione, Ron, and I—had been walking around the grounds. Then, a huge, shaggy, black dog appeared and dragged Ron through a secret tunnel at the base of the Whomping Willow.

Harry, Hermione, and I stood before the door barring our way.

I kicked the door down without a second's hesitation, revealing a dusty old room. There was a four-poster bed against a wall; Crookshanks was laying on it. Beside the bed, on the floor, clutching his broken leg was Ron.

We rushed to him.

"Ron, are you alright?"

"Where's the bloody dog?"

I remained silent, casting a swift spell to check on his leg. Yep, it was broken.

"Not a dog," Ron moaned. "Harry, Bella, it's a trap!"

"What—" Harry began.

"_He's the dog! He's an Animagus!_"

He'd been staring behind us, over our shoulders. I spun, just in time to see a man in the shadows slam the door shut behind us.

The man looked terrible, honestly. His dark hair was filthy, greasy, and matted. His face was thin and gaunt, haggard, with dark shadows under his dark, hard eyes. His eyes were hard, haunted, like he had seen too many horrors in his life, but not cold. His pale skin was waxy as if he hadn't seen the sun in years—he probably hadn't, really. He was bony and skeletal. I could see his teeth were a nasty yellow, as he grinned.

I cursed mentally. Sirius Black. Of course.

And he had Ron's wand in his hand. I cursed again.

_Expelli—_but my thought was cut off by Black using the same spell. All three of our wands flew from our hands. He caught them. This time I cursed aloud.

His eyes were fixed on Harry and me, barely noticing Ron or Hermione. Subtly, I inched to my right, blocking Ron in case the man tried to curse my already injured friend.

"I thought you'd come, to help your friend." He said hoarsely. "Your father would have done the same for me, Harry. Brave of you, not to run you a teacher. I'm grateful…it will make everything much easier."

Even though my eyes did not move from Black, I saw Harry stiffen, angry at the taunt about his father. I inched in front of him, trying to block all three of my friends, and trying to stop Harry from killing the man. I did not blame him. I hated Black too.

Ron spoke up from behind us. "If you want to kill Harry and Bella, you'll have to kill us, too!" He was trying to stand, paling as he did, in front of the bed.

Something in Black's eyes flickered. "Lie down," he said to Ron quietly. "You will damage that leg even more."

Ron protested, repeating what he'd said not a minute before. Glancing at him from the corner of my eyes, I impatiently flicked my hand, as if brushing off an annoying fly. Ron was lifted into the air and landed gently on the bed behind him. As much as I hated Black, I knew he was right about that.

Harry was seething with anger. He yelled at Black, blaming him for killing Lily and James Potter. I grabbed his shoulder, trying to restrain him.

"Harry! Be quiet!" Hermione whimpered.

"HE KILLED MY MUM AND DAD!" Harry roared, fighting Hermione's and my grips on him. When he broke our grasps, he lunged at Black, forgetting that he was only a short, skinny thirteen year old, trying to harm a tall, full grown man.

In shock, Black did not think to raise the wand. I was staring as Harry fought the Azkaban escapee.

But when Black's hand reached Harry's throat, I snapped. I punched the murderer right in the face, causing him to lose his grip on Harry.

Still moving swiftly, made a motion with my hands, pushing them apart, palm out. Sure enough, Harry and Black flew apart, hitting opposite walls with small grunts of pain—Black much harder and forceful than Harry. In the confusion of their brawl, the wands had fallen to the ground. With my natural Seeker reflexes, I threw myself at them while Black was distracted. Crookshanks oddly tried to stop me, but I grabbed the wands anyways and tossed them to their respectful owners, tucking mine into my robe pocket, so it could not be used against me. After all, I could do wandless magic fairly well for a third year.

I had my right hand out, not four inches from the murderer's face. My hand has half curled into a fist, my index finger extended, pointed at the spot in between his eyes.

Harry was beside me, his wand pointed at Black's heart.

"Going to kill me, Harry, Bella?" he whispered, his eyes flicking repeatedly from my hand to Harry's wand and back again.

A bruise was forming around Black's left eye and his nose was bleeding a bit.

"You killed my parents," Harry said shakily.

Black stared at him, and then said how he hadn't been the one to betray the Potters. I could see a vein near his right temple pulsing in fury.

Crookshanks suddenly leapt onto Black's chest, settling on his heart, in front of Harry's wand. When Black tried to remove the cat, Crookshanks sank his claws into his robes and refused to move. Hermione sobbed dryly in betrayal once behind us.

We stood in silence. Then, after minutes, there was the sound of footsteps heading our way. Hermione screamed to whoever it was that we were up here and that Black was here, too.

I could only gape when Professor Lupin ran into the room, bloodlessly pale, his wand at a ready, his eyes swept over the scene before him, then shout, "_Expelliarmus!_"

All four of the wands—even mine from my pocket—soared away from us, to Lupin. My face reddened in fury and betrayal.

"Where is he, Sirius?" he asked quietly. Black pointed to Ron, who looked absolutely confused.

"But then…why hasn't he shown himself before now?" Lupin asked, his eyes far away, deep in thought. "Unless—unless _he_ was the one…unless you switched…without telling me?"

Slowly, Black nodded.

Beside me, Harry interrupted, "Professor? What's going on—?"

But his voice died away as Lupin lowered his wand and helped Black up and embraced him like a brother.

Betrayal raged through me like wildfire.

"HOW DARE YOU!" I shrieked, my face reddening in fury. My temper rivaled even McGonagall's when she was truly furious. "I trusted you—you—you—"

"Bella—"

I ignored Ron. "You—and him! I didn't tell anyone—" I looked to Hermione, who looked as betrayed as I felt. "—we didn't tell! We covered up for you! And—after all this time—you were his _friend_!"

"You're wrong," Lupin disagreed. "I haven't been Sirius's friend, but I am now—Let me explain—"

"NO!" Hermione screamed. "Harry, don't trust him! He's been helping Black into the castle—he wants you dead too, as well as Bella! _He's a werewolf!_"

A shocked silence followed. Lupin looked calm, albeit pale. Harry and Ron gaped. My face was set like stone—cold and stubborn.

Lupin replied, "Only one out of three, Miss Granger, I'm afraid. I have not been helping Sirius into the castle and I most certainly do _not_ want Harry and Bella dead." He shuddered. "But I don't deny that I am a werewolf."

I listened, seething with anger, to my friends bicker and speak about his condition.

"I have _not_ been helping Sirius," Lupin eventually said. "If you give me a chance to explain—"

I couldn't hold in my anger, my betrayal. I had thought that I had finally found a father figure—a family member. Someone who loved me.

But no. I had been deceived and tricked into thinking that—into trusting him.

Completely ignoring the fact that he was the one with our wands and that I was wandless, I snapped. I stepped toward him and slapped him right across the face. Blimey, I did that a lot—punching or slapping, I mean.

The red mark contrasted drastically on his pale face.

"I trusted you!" I spat quietly, my anger almost beyond words. "And you betrayed me. Betrayed all of us. After all we did for you—lying, hiding your secret, and covering up for you!"

Lupin interrupted me. "There!" he thrust our wands into our hands, and gave me his. "Now you are armed and we are not! Now will you listen?"

I quieted as I stuffed my wand into my robe pocket. This earned me a confused look from Black. "Why did you put your wand away?" he asked quietly.

I shrugged and explained nonchalantly. "Wandless magic comes easily to me."

"If you haven't been helping him," Harry said, ignoring Black's question for me, with a furious glance at Black, "how did you know he was here?"

"The map," said Lupin. "The Marauder's Map. I was in my office examining it —"

"You know how to work it?" Harry said suspiciously.

"Of course I know how to work it," said Lupin, waving his hand impatiently. "I helped write it. I'm Moony — that was my friends' nickname for me at school."

"You wrote —?" I started, but was cut off.

"The important thing is, I was watching it carefully this evening, because I had an idea that you, Ron, and Hermione might try and sneak out of the castle to visit Hagrid before his Hippogriff was executed. And I was right, wasn't I?"

He had started to pace up and down, looking at them. Little patches of dust rose at his feet.

"You might have been wearing your father's old cloak, Harry—"

"How d'you know about the cloak?"

"The number of times I saw James disappearing under it…" said Lupin, waving an impatient hand again. "The point is, even if you're wearing an Invisibility Cloak, you still show up on the Marauder's Map. I watched you cross the grounds and enter Hagrid's hut. Twenty minutes later, you left Hagrid, and set off back toward the castle. But you were now accompanied by somebody else."

"What?" said Harry. "No, we weren't!"

"I couldn't believe my eyes," said Lupin, still pacing, and ignoring Harry's interruption. "I thought the map must be malfunctioning. How could he be with you?"

"No one was with us!" said Harry.

"And then I saw another dot, moving fast toward you, labeled Sirius Black… I saw him collide with you; I watched as he pulled two of you into the Whomping Willow —"

"One of us!" Ron said angrily.

"No, Ron," Lupin disagreed quietly. "Two of you."

He had stopped his pacing, his eyes moving over Ron.

"Do you think I could have a look at the rat?" he said evenly.

"What?" said Ron. "What's Scabbers got to do with it?"

"Everything," said Lupin. "Could I see him, please?"

Ron hesitated, then put a hand inside his robes. Scabbers emerged, thrashing desperately; Ron had to seize his long bald tail to stop him escaping. Crookshanks stood up on Black's leg and made a soft hissing noise.

Lupin moved closer to Ron. He seemed to be holding his breath as he gazed intently at Scabbers.

"What?" Ron said again, holding Scabbers close to him, looking scared. "What's my rat got to do with anything?"

"That's not a rat," croaked Sirius Black suddenly.

"What d'you mean — of course he's a rat —"

"No, he's not," said Lupin quietly. "He's a wizard."

"An Animagus," said Black, "by the name of Peter Pettigrew."

It took a few seconds for the absurdity of this statement to sink in. Then Ron voiced what I was thinking.

"You're both mental."

"Ridiculous!" said Hermione faintly, and I nodded in agreement, but then froze, thinking.

"Peter Pettigrew's dead!" said Harry. "He killed him twelve years ago!" He pointed at Black, whose face twitched convulsively.

"I meant to," he growled, his yellow teeth bared, "but little Peter got the better of me… not this time, though!"

And Crookshanks was thrown to the floor as Black lunged at Scabbers; Ron yelled with pain as Black's weight fell on his broken leg.

Lupin yelled at Black, "Sirius, NO! WAIT! You can't do it just like that—they've got to understand—we've got to explain!"

"We can explain afterwards!" Sirius snarled, struggling to get Scabbers from Ron.

"They've got a right to know!" panted Lupin, struggling to restrain Black. "Ron has kept him as a pet! There are parts even I don't understand! And Harry and Bella—you owe them the truth, Sirius!"

Black stopped struggling at once, his hollowed eyes focused on Scabbers, who was clamped tightly under Ron's bitten, bleeding, scratched hands.

Then he turned, looking to me. "Bella? Isabella Lestrange?" he guessed quietly. A bit reluctantly, I nodded but replied, "I go by Bella Swan, but essentially you are correct."

He looked back to Lupin. "All right then. Tell them whatever you want. But make it quick. I want to commit the murder I was imprisoned for…"

"You're nutters, both of you," said Ron shakily, looking round at Harry and Hermione for support. "I've had enough of this. I'm off."

He tried to heave himself up on his good leg, but Lupin raised his wand again, pointing it at Scabbers.

"You're going to hear me out, Ron," he said quietly. "Just keep a tight hold on Peter while you listen."

"HE'S NOT PETER, HE'S SCABBERS!" Ron yelled, trying to force the rat back into his front pocket, but Scabbers was fighting too hard; Ron swayed and overbalanced, and Harry and me caught him and pushed him back down to the bed. Then, ignoring Black, we looked to the DADA professor.

"There were witnesses who saw Pettigrew die," he said. "A whole street full of them…"

"They didn't see what they thought they saw!" said Black savagely, still watching Scabbers struggling in Ron's hands.

"Everyone thought Sirius killed Peter," said Lupin, nodding. "I believed it myself — until I saw the map tonight. Because the Marauder's map never lies… Peter's alive. Ron's holding him, Harry."

I was frozen, thinking, trying to find a loophole…trying to know that Black and Lupin were both out of their minds. Their story made sense, reluctant as I was to admit it…

Then Hermione spoke, in a trembling, would-be calm sort of voice, as though trying to will Professor Lupin to talk sensibly.

"But Professor Lupin… Scabbers can't be Pettigrew… it just can't be true, you know it can't…"

"Why can't it be true?" Lupin said calmly, as though they were in class, and Hermione had simply spotted a problem in an experiment with Grindylows.

"Because… because people would know if Peter Pettigrew had been an Animagus. We did Animagi in class with Professor McGonagall. And I looked them up when I did my homework — the Ministry of Magic keeps tabs on witches and wizards who can become animals; there's a register showing what animal they become, and their markings and things… and I went and looked Professor McGonagall up on the register, and there have been only seven Animagi this century, and Pettigrew's name wasn't on the list."

Lupin started to laugh.

"Right again, Hermione!" he said. "But the Ministry never knew that here used to be three unregistered Animagi running around Hogwarts."

"If you're going to tell them the story, get a move on, Remus," said Black, who was still watching Scabbers's every desperate move. "I've waited twelve years, I'm not going to wait much longer."

"All right… but you'll need to help me, Sirius," said Lupin, "I only know how it began…"

Lupin broke off. There had been a loud creak behind him. The bedroom door had opened of its own accord. All five of them stared at it. Then Lupin strode toward it and looked out into the landing. "No one there…"

My eyes narrowed—and a thought came to my mind: where was Harry's Cloak?

"This place is haunted!" said Ron.

"It's not," said Lupin, still looking at the door in a puzzled way. "The Shrieking Shack was never haunted… The screams and howls the villagers used to hear were made by me."

He pushed his graying hair out of his eyes, thought for a moment then said, "That's where all of this starts — with my becoming a werewolf. None of this could have happened if I hadn't been bitten… and if I hadn't been so foolhardy…"

He looked sober and tired. Ron started to interrupt, but Hermione and I shushed him. She was watching Lupin very intently.

"I was a very small boy when I received the bite. My parents tried everything, but in those days there was no cure. The potion that Professor Snape has been making for me is a very recent discovery. It makes me safe, you see. As long as I take it in the week, preceding the full moon, I keep my mind when I transform… I'm able to curl up in my office, a harmless wolf, and wait for the moon to wane again.

"Before the Wolfsbane Potion was discovered, however, I became a fully fledged monster once a month. It seemed impossible that I would be able to come to Hogwarts. Other parents weren't likely to want their children exposed to me.

"But then Dumbledore became Headmaster, and he was sympathetic. He said that as long as we took certain precautions, there was no reason I shouldn't come to school…" Lupin sighed, and looked directly at Harry and me. "I told you, months ago, that the Whomping Willow was planted the year I came to Hogwarts. The truth is that it was planted because I came to Hogwarts. This house" — Lupin looked miserably around the room, — "the tunnel that leads to it — they were built for my use. Once a month, I was smuggled out of the castle, into this place, to transform. The tree was placed at the tunnel mouth to stop anyone coming across me while I was dangerous."

The only sound apart from Lupin's voice was Scabbers's frightened squeaking.

"My transformations in those days were — were terrible. It is very painful to turn into a werewolf. I was separated from humans to bite, so I bit and scratched myself instead. The villagers heard the noise and the screaming and thought they were hearing particularly violent spirits. Dumbledore encouraged the rumor… Even now, when the house has been silent for years, the villagers don't dare approach it…

"But apart from my transformations, I was happier than I had ever been in my life. For the first time ever, I had friends, three great friends. Sirius Black… Peter Pettigrew… and, of course, your father, Harry — James Potter.

"Now, my three friends could hardly fail to notice that I disappeared once a month. I made up all sorts of stories. I told them my mother was ill, and that I had to go home to see her…I was terrified they would desert me the moment they found out what I was. But of course, they, like you, Hermione, Bella, worked out the truth…

"And they didn't desert me at all. Instead, they did something for me that would make my transformations not only bearable, but the best times of my life. They became Animagi."

"My dad too?" said Harry, astounded.

"Yes, indeed," said Lupin. "It took them the best part of three years to work out how to do it. Your father and Sirius here were the cleverest students in the school,and lucky they were, because the Animagus transformation can go horribly wrong — one reason the Ministry keeps a close watch on those attempting to do it. Peter needed all the help he could get from James and Sirius. Finally, in our fifth year, they managed it. They could each turn into a different animal at will."

"But how did that help you?" said Hermione, sounding puzzled.

"They couldn't keep me company as humans, so they kept me company as animals," said Lupin. "A werewolf is only a danger to people. They sneaked out of the castle every month under James's Invisibility Cloak. They transformed… Peter, as the smallest, could slip beneath the Willow's attacking branches and touch the knot that freezes it. They would then slip down the tunnel and join me. Under their influence, I became less dangerous. My body was still wolfish, but my mind seemed to become less so while I was with them."

"Hurry up, Remus," snarled Black, who was still watching Scabbers with a horrible sort of hunger on his face.

"I'm getting there, Sirius, I'm getting there… well, highly exciting possibilities were open to us now that we could all transform. Soon we were leaving the Shrieking Shack and roaming the school grounds and the village by night. Sirius and James transformed into such large animals, they were able to keep a werewolf in check. I doubt whether any Hogwarts students ever found out more about the Hogwarts grounds and Hogsmeade than we did… And that's how we came to write the Marauder's Map, and sign it with our nicknames. Sirius is Padfoot. Peter is Wormtail. James was Prongs."

"What sort of animal —?" Harry began, but Hermione cut him off. "That was still really dangerous! Running around in the dark with a werewolf! What if you'd given the others the slip, and bitten somebody?"

"A thought that still haunts me," said Lupin heavily. "And there were near misses, many of them. We laughed about them afterwards. We were young, thoughtless — carried away with our own cleverness.

"I sometimes felt guilty about betraying Dumbledore's trust, of course… he had admitted me to Hogwarts when no other headmaster would have done so, and he had no idea I was breaking the rules he had set down for my own and others' safety. He never knew I had led three fellow students into becoming Animagi illegally. But I always managed to forget my guilty feelings every time we sat down to plan our next month's adventure. And I haven't changed…"

Lupin's face had hardened, and there was self-disgust in his voice. "All this year, I have been battling with myself, wondering whether I should tell Dumbledore that Sirius was an Animagus. But I didn't do it. Why? Because I was too cowardly. It would have meant admitting that I'd betrayed his trust while I was at school, admitting that I'd led others along with me… and Dumbledore's trust has meant everything to me. He let me into Hogwarts as a boy, and he gave me a job when I have been shunned all my adult life, unable to find paid work because of what I am. And so I convinced myself that Sirius was getting into the school using dark arts he learned from Voldemort, that being an Animagus had nothing to do with it… so, in a way, Snape's been right about me all along."

"Snape?" said Black harshly, taking his eyes off Scabbers; for the first time in minutes and looking up at Lupin. "What's Snape got to do with it?"

"He's here, Sirius," said Lupin heavily. "He's teaching here as well." He looked up at Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

"Professor Snape was at school with us. He fought very hard against my appointment to the Defense Against the Dark Arts job. He has been telling Dumbledore all year that I am not to be trusted. He has his reasons… you see, Sirius here played a trick on him which nearly killed him, a trick which involved me —"

Black made a derisive noise.

"It served him right," he sneered. "Sneaking around, trying to find out what we were up to… hoping he could get us expelled…"

"Severus was very interested in where I went every month." Lupin told Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "We were in the same year, you know, and we — er — didn't like each other very much. He especially disliked James. Jealous, I think, of James's talent on the Quidditch field… anyway Snape had seen me crossing the grounds with Madam Pomfrey one evening as she led me toward the Whomping Willow to transform. Sirius thought it would be — er — amusing, to tell Snape all he had to do was prod the knot on the tree trunk with a long stick, and he'd be able to get in after me. Well, of course, Snape tried it — if he'd got as far as this house, he'd have met a fully grown werewolf — but your father, who'd heard what Sirius had done, went after Snape and pulled him back, at great risk to his life… Snape glimpsed me, though, at the end of the tunnel. He was forbidden by Dumbledore to tell anybody, but from that time on he knew what I was…"

"So that's why Snape doesn't like you," said Harry slowly, "because he thought you were in on the joke?"

I was about to correct Harry, that it was _Professor_ Snape, when—

"That's right," sneered a cold, familiar voice from behind Lupin.

Severus Snape pulled off the Invisibility Cloak, his wand pointed at Lupin. Well, I knew the shack wasn't haunted. Hermione screamed from beside me. Black leapt to his feet. Harry only stared in shock.

"I found this at the base of the Whomping Willow," he sneered, tossing it aside, it landing at Harry's feet. "Very useful, Potter; I thank you." Good job Harry.

He looked to Lupin and continued, explaining how he'd gone to the werewolf's office to bring him the potion, to find him gone and the Marauder's Map laying on his desk; how he'd suspected Lupin all along for helping Black.

I cried out in shock when snakelike cords burst from Snape's wand, wrapping around Lupin's mouth, wrists and ankles, causing the poor man to topple over, unable to move.

I felt both Hermione and Harry holding me back.

Black roared in rage and started towards Snape, but Snape was quicker. His wand was already pointed at Black, right in between the eyes. "Give me one reason," said Snape, in a soft, but dangerous tone. "Give me a reason to do it, and I swear I will."

Black stopped dead. Both had similar expressions of hatred.

I listened, internally debating what to do, as they argued. I watched as Harry blocked the door and defended Lupin and Black.

Then, simultaneously, Harry, Ron, Hermione and I attempted to Disarm Snape. Snape, in response, was knocked unconscious.

"You shouldn't have done that," Black muttered. "You should've left him to me…" He looked to me, as if scrutinizing me. "I guess you can do wandless magic."

"Like I said," I replied rather smugly, shrugging, "it comes easily to me."

He looked at me for a long moment. "I guess so…" He paused, then muttered, "You do look like my cousin…"

"Your cousin?" Hermione asked from beside me.

"Bellatrix Lestrange," he replied, frowning. "I couldn't stand her. But I knew her well enough to know you look almost exactly like her when she was fourteen."

Hermione looked back to Snape. "We attacked a teacher," she whimpered. "Oh, we are in so much trouble…"

Black tried to untie Lupin, who had still been struggling.

"I'm not saying I believe you," Harry said. I nodded in agreement as I flicked my hand, causing the ropes to fall to the floor, freeing Lupin.

"How do you even know Scabbers is Pettigrew? How do you know it's _this_ rat?"

"You know, Sirius," Lupin said, "that's a fair question. How _did_ you know?"

Black reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled old article from the _Daily Prophet_. It was the photo of the Weasleys that had been in the newspaper the previous summer. There, I realized, sitting on Ron's shoulder was Scabbers.

"How did you get…?" Lupin began.

Some of the minister's words came back to me. I blinked and asked Black, "When you asked Fudge for the newspaper, right? When Fudge was visiting Azkaban?"

He looked at me curiously. "How do you…?"

Again, I shrugged. "Long story. Basically, neither Harry nor I got permission from our legal guardians to go to Hogsmeade. We shuck out—Harry using the Invisibility Cloak and me using a Disillusionment Charm. We overheard Fudge and Madam Rosmerta and a few of the teachers talking. Fudge mentioned it in passing…"

Black nodded. "Yes, that was it."

"My God…" I muttered. "Scabbers is missing a toe…"

Lupin's eyes widened in realization. "All they could ever find of Pettigrew was his finger!" He murmured, his eyes on the struggling rat.

They explained, then, to the others. That Sirius hadn't been the one who'd given the Potters away. At the last minute, they'd switched to Peter Pettigrew. Sirius Black was an innocent man.

Eventually, when Ron finally gave the two friends the rat—if he really was a rat—Lupin counted down, "One—two—THREE!"

There was a brilliant flash of light. Scabbers was gone, replaced by a small, short, plump man with rat-like features, small watery eyes, and an overall unhealthy appearance.

I watched, shocked, horrified, as Black and Lupin interrogated the man, who groveled at their, Hermione's and Ron's feet, making pitiful, un-Gryffindor excuses.

He was at Harry's and my feet. "Isabella, Harry, James wouldn't want my killed….he would have shown me mercy…he would have understood! Harry you look so much like him…please!"

Black and Lupin pulled him away from Harry and me.

I listened, stoic, to his pitiful excuses.

"…he would've killed me!" Pettigrew whimpered.

"THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED!" roared Black. "DIED RATHER THAN BETRAY YOUR FRIENDS, AS WE WOULD HAVE DONE FOR YOU!"

Both Black and Lupin had their wands raised, pointed at Pettigrew.

"You should have realized, Peter, that if Voldemort didn't kill you, we would," Lupin growled quietly.

Beside me, Hermione buried her face in her hands, not wanting to watch this. I almost did the same. I couldn't watch this. They shouldn't do this!

"NO!" I said, going to the two friends. "You can't kill him! You can't…." I paused, seeing the looks of hesitance on their faces. "But if you want to clear your name, Bla—Sirius, he needs to be alive. He can serve as evidence: you never killed Peter Pettigrew. And, also, I don't think James would want his two best friends to become murderers…this rat isn't worth going to Azkaban for."

"I agree," Harry said. "You shouldn't be sent to Azkaban like that. You shouldn't have been in the first place, actually…"

"Harry! Isabella!" Pettigrew gasped, flinging his arms around our knees in a grateful sort of way. "You—thank you—it's more than I deserve—thank you—"

"Get off us," Harry spat, shaking Pettigrew away. "We aren't doing this for you, you bloody rat. It just wouldn't do either of us good to have our godfathers sent to Azkaban."

I nodded in agreement. Pettigrew seemed to shrink at our glares.

And so began the adventure of the night…

* * *

**AN: Sorry for the insanely long brake! I've been writing non-stop on both MS Prologue and 2, as well as the new story I'm working on...I haven't posted it, but will soon. BE SURE TO CHECK OUT THE LINK ON MY PROFILE FOR THE TRAILER I MADE FOR MY COMING-SOON STORY, entitled:**

**"The Tale of Civia Potter"**

**PS - VOTE ON MY POLL TOO!  
**


	26. Late May, 1995: The Third Task

**Late May, 1995**

I'd been sitting in the stands, waiting for one of the four Triwizard Champions to emerge from the maze victorious—hopefully Harry.

After the champions had entered the maze, we neither heard nor saw anything for a while. _That_ was the most boring I had ever been looking forward to. That is, until a piercing, terrified shriek erupted from somewhere in the maze.

"Fleur," I murmured, concerned. Personally, from the few exchanges I'd had with her, had liked Fleur. She was a powerful and talented witch, as well as a fiercely loyal and caring friend. That scream was not a good thing. Not good at all. Red sparks shot up into the sky, hovering above one part of the maze, presumably where Fleur was.

A few of the professors around the maze's perimeter entered the maze.

Minutes later, McGonagall exited the maze, a trembling, pale, visibly shaken Fleur leaning on her shoulder. I saw Madam Maxime rush to her and the two speaking in rapid-fire French.

About ten minutes later, yells echoed from the maze. One was especially loud and articulate: "_IMPEDIMENTA!_"

I exchanged worried glances with Ron and Hermione. That had been Harry's voice.

An hour later, we were all still waiting.

Despite the deplorable monotony, I had an odd sense of foreboding. I shook it off, thinking, _No, I'm not Trelawney._

I sighed as I brusquely stood. "I'll be back in a moment," I said to Hermione. "I need to get some fresh air."

I hated to leave, but it was so crowded and loud, I could barely hear myself think. I walked near the lake, looking over the black glassy lake, which I knew housed hundreds of grindylows and merpeople.

I heard something behind me. I reached for my wand as I spun, alarmed. Before I could even lay a finger on it, I saw a black-cloaked figure cast a spell, which hit me in the face. I fell to the dry earth, slipping into unconsciousness.

When I woke, I groaned. I was sore from that spell that hit me. The spell…

I leapt to my feet, looking around me, alarmed.

Wherever I was, I was nowhere near Hogwarts. Even the mountains that were visible from the castle had gone. I was in an old, overgrown graveyard. In the distance, past a huge old yew tree, a small abandoned church was visible. Far off, past a hill, a very big manor-like home stood, looking equally deserted and forgotten.

I plunged my hand into a slightly hidden pocket on the inside of my robes and withdrew my wand as a precaution, despite my not requiring it.

I was alone.

Nearly as soon as I thought that, I saw something.

A whirl of color and movement. A heavy thud, closely followed by the sound of air rushing from lungs.

_Lumos_, I thought, my wand raised, ready to strike at the first sign of an enemy.

"What—Bella?" A familiar voice said, bewildered.

"Harry?" I asked, confused.

"Bella?" Another, slightly less familiar voice said, perplexed.

"Cedric?" I blinked stepping closer.

Sure enough, the two students were standing up, pulling out their wands and lighting them. At their feet was the slightly glowing Triwizard Cup. They appeared okay. Worried, but unharmed, except Harry's leg was hurt, almost unable to support his weight.

"What—what happened?" Harry said. "Where are we? What's going on?"

"I—I don't know," I said, worried now. "I went for a walk—some fresh air, you know—by the lake. Someone snuck up behind me and Stunned me. I woke up here a moment ago. I haven't a clue where we are…So both of you won?"

"Yeah," Cedric replied. "Harry saved me and he wouldn't grab the Cup afterwards."

"Let me guess," I said, grinning. "You two had a fight over who should get it, each claiming the other deserved to win." When they nodded, I chuckled. "So predictable." I murmured. I paused, then said, "I don't suppose anyone told either of you that the cup was a portkey?"

"Nope."

"No."

"I figured." I paused. "It has to be a trap of some sorts. We aren't anywhere near Hogwarts."

"I have a bad feeling about this. Wands out, do you reckon?" Cedric asked.

I nodded, an uneasy feeling in my stomach.

Suddenly, I saw movement in the corner of my eye. I spun, Harry and Cedric quickly following suit.

A man approached, his head hooded. He appeared to be carrying a bundle of robes, or a baby, perhaps.

Harry and Cedric were both lowering their wands, glancing to one another. I wasn't as careless. I had my wand trained on the figure every second.

The figure stopped, staring at our little threesome.

Suddenly, my scar erupted in pain. I gasped, barely managing to keep upright. Harry was not as lucky. Caught unaware, his wand slipped a bit from his grasp as he doubled over, his hands over his scar, as he gasped.

I heard a high, cold voice say, "_Kill the spare._"

Almost immediately, the man yelled, brandishing a wand, "_Avada Kedavra!_"

I didn't have time to try and save him. The green magic hit Cedric, who fell to the ground, spread-eagle.

Cedric Diggory was dead.

"No!" I gasped, tears coming to my eyes.

I wasn't particularly close to him. I hardly knew him. But I still felt pain from his death. The death of innocence is always a grievous occurrence. Why was it that death of innocence always marked the beginning of war? The ominous thought sent a chill of horror through me.

Completely forgetting the blinding, crippling pain, I raised my wand, a ferocious snarl on my face, a hex on my tongue, but the man anticipated it.

"_Expelliarmus!_" he yelled, and my wand flew from my hand. Harry's flew from his grasp, too. I cursed vehemently aloud.

The man flicked his wand again, and Harry and I were slammed against a tall, wide headstone that I'd seen read 'Tom Riddle'.

Ropes were conjured from thin air bound us to the stone. Harry was still in shock from the death of Cedric to really fight back.

The man's hood fell back as he was checking the rope's knots, and I saw his face.

"Pettigrew!" I snarled, simultaneously as Harry gasped "Wormtail!"

He ignored our gasps, making sure the ropes were so tight we couldn't move an inch. Then, he stuffed black fabric into our mouths, preventing us from speaking.

I could see our wands lying uselessly at Cedric's body's side.

I heard something near Harry's and my feet, and glanced down, to my shock, I realized it to be a great, thick python-like snake. Nagini.

Tearing my eyes away from the snake and Cedric's body, I saw that Pettigrew had put a huge cauldron at the foot of the grave. It was filled with what appeared to be water, but I assumed to be potion.

Pettigrew started a fire beneath it, and the potion bubbled quickly.

"_Hurry_," the cold high voice said. I realized that it came from the bundle of robes Petigrew had set down.

"It is ready, Master," Pettigrew said.

"_Now…_"

Wormtail pulled the flailing, struggling thing from the robes. It looked like an ugly, flayed, hairless human child with black-red skin. Its face was hideous and snakelike, with gleaming crimson eyes.

Quickly, with a look of revulsion on his face, Pettigrew put it in the cauldron, and it sank beneath the potion's bubbling surface.

Pettigrew raised his wand and spoke. "_Bone of father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!_" A trickle of dust came from the ground and fell into the cauldron, turning the potion a poisonous-looking blue.

Bone of _father_…Tom Riddle…and Tom Marvolo Riddle _Jr._ With a stab of horror, I realized the reason Harry and I had been brought here tonight.

Pettigrew raised, not his wand, but a gleaming knife. His voice broke into petrified sobs.

"_Flesh—of the servent—w-willingly given—you will—revive—your master._"

I realized what he was doing just as it happened.

He brought the silver dagger down towards his hand—I closed my eyes—his scream pierced the night, then a splash, as something landed in the potion. I winced, before opening my eyes. The potion had turned a burning red.

Pettigrew had sacrificed his own hand.

Still groaning in agony, he came over to Harry and I, the knife raised.

"_B-blood from the enemies…forcibly taken…you will…resurrect your…foe._"

Neither Harry nor I could stop him.

Pettigrew, using the knife, cut Harry in the crook of his arm, and crimson blood began to cover the blade. I saw Harry wince.

He pulled a vial from his cloak and tipped the knife so the blood trickled into the vial.

Coming over to me, he did the same to the crook of my elbow. I gasped in pain, but the gag nullified the sound. I felt blood seep from the cut, to my torn sleeve. I held my breath to stop myself from smelling the blood, but forced myself to watch as Pettigrew put the vial to the cut, letting a dribble of crimson liquid fall into it.

Pettigrew turned back to the cauldron and poured Harry's and my blood into the potion.

The potion glowed brightly, but then the glow ended, and white steam curled from the inside the cauldron.

With a feeling of icy terror, I saw the figure of a man, tall and skeletally thin, stand from inside the cauldron. Even the gag could not withhold my gasp of horror.

"Robe me," he said, in the cold, high voice.

My eyes were scrunched close, as I silently prayed this was a nightmare. That it was my imagination.

But, when I opened my eyes, as I stared into the white, flat face with livid scarlet eyes and slits, I could not deny reality:

Lord Voldemort had risen again.

As soon as Voldemort had looked away from Harry and me, my eyes were squeezed shut.

As much I hated to, I had to face the truth. Harry entering the Tournament had been a trap, just as Hermione and I had been telling him all along. There was a spy at Hogwarts, just as I and probably half the staff had suspected—a spy for Voldemort. I had been captured, as well as Harry. Cedric Diggory had been killed.

Lord Voldemort had risen.

I opened my eyes to see Voldemort press a forefinger to the Dark Mark on Pettigrew unharmed arm. My scar seared with pain again, and I could tell by the way that Harry winced, he had too. As the snakelike monster removed his hand from the mark, I saw that it had become an inky black.

As Voldemort looked around the graveyard, he whispered, but I could clearly hear him. "How many will be brave enough to return? And how many will be foolish to stay away?"

My stomach churned at his words, cold dread taking over. He'd summoned his Death Eaters. I watch, as he paced. Suddenly, he paused and looked at Harry and me, cold triumph in his gaze.

"You two stand upon the remains of my late father," he hissed softly, his crimson eyes glinting in malice. "A Muggle, and a fool…very much like your mother, Harry Potter…."

He spoke about his mother and father, how he abandoned her upon finding out what she was, how she died in childbirth, leaving him at a Muggle orphanage, and how he himself killed his father.

He suddenly laughed. "Listen to me reliving family history…why, I am growing sentimental…But look, Harry, Isabella! My _true_ family returns…."

It was true. All around—in between graves, behind the old yew tree, in every shadowy space—hooded and cloaked people were Apparating. One by one, slowly, they moved forward, cautiously, curiously, as though they didn't believe the sight to be real. They stood in a circle around Tom Riddle Sr.'s grave, Voldemort, Harry, and I, but gaps were there.

"Welcome, Death Eaters," Voldemort spoke quietly. "Thirteen years…thirteen years since we last met. Yet you answer my call as though it was yesterday…We are still united under the Dark Mark, then! _Or are we?_" He inhaled deeply. "I smell guilt," he hissed. "There is a stench of guilt upon the air." Again, all the Death Eaters shuddered, and so did I.

Still frightened for Harry's and my lives, I closed my eyes, trying not to listen to Voldemort questioning his Death Eaters' loyalty, the shrieks of several who their master was inflicting the Cruciatus Curse upon, Pettigrew's whimpering, and the rest. Only a few sentences caught my attention.

"…The Lestranges should stand here," Voldemort quietly said, and my eyes flew open in shock at the mention of my parents, my heart skipping several beats in fear. Voldemort had stopped in front of a large gap in between my dear uncle Lucius Malfoy and another Death Eater. Several Death Eaters' eyes flicked to me quickly. "But they are entombed in Azkaban. They were faithful. They went to Azkaban rather than renounce me. When Azkaban is broken open,"— my blood ran cold, and my breathing halted, as I froze in shock—"the Lestranges will be honored beyond their dreams…"

They were going to break my parents out of Azkaban. The thought caused fear and horror to take over. I forced myself to take calm, quiet, deep breaths, knowing I would need a cool head for whatever was coming.

After a few moments, Voldemort stopped in front of a much larger gap, at least twice the size of the Lestranges'.

"And here we have six missing Death Eaters…three dead in my service. One, too cowardly to return…" That had to be Karkaroff, the cowardly cockroach. "...he will pay. One who I believe has left me forever….he will be killed, of course…" Snape? Oh, I'd better warn him if I get back. _If…_ "…And one, who remains my faithful servant, and who has already reentered my service." Or was that Snape? Or an unnamed, unknown Death Eater who was at Hogwarts? Someone at Hogwarts had ambushed me and made the Triwizard Cup a portkey.

The Death Eaters all stirred at their master's words, looking at each other, trying to figure out who it was.

"He is at Hogwarts, that faithful servant, and it was through his efforts that our young friends arrived here tonight…"

I froze. I was right. Someone at Hogwarts was an enemy.

I felt Harry stiffen next to me, as Voldemort's and his Death Eaters' eyes swiveled to us.

"Yes," Voldemort said, a grin twisting his mouth. "Harry Potter and Isabella _Swan_ have joined us for our little gathering. One might go as far to call them my guests of honor."

There was a brief silence until Lucius Malfoy spoke up. "My Lord…we crave to know…we beg you to tell us how you achieved this…this miracle…how you managed to return to us."

"Ah, what a story it is, Lucius," Voldemort began. "And it begins—and ends—with my young friends here…"

I listened, fear still near enveloping me, as he told of how Harry's mother sacrificed herself for Harry and I, et cetera.

"…His mother died in an attempt to save them—and unwittingly provided them with a protection I admit I had not foreseen….I could not touch them."

He raised his hands, putting his left forefinger very close to my cheek, and his right forefinger very close to Harry's cheek. Both he and I stiffened, and I shivered in disgust.

"His mother left upon them the traces of her sacrifice…This is old magic, I should have remembered it, I was foolish to overlook it…but no matter. I can touch them now."

It was at that moment when the pale digit touched my face. I thought my head would burst from the pain. I heard Harry gasp in pain beside me and it was all I could do to clench my jaw so I did not scream, though a slight whimper escaped my lips.

The pain did not lessen as I was forced to listen to Voldemort telling of how he had been ripped from his body—less than human, spirit, or ghost—

"…Then, four years ago…the means for my return seemed assured. A wizard—young, foolish, and gullible—wandered across my path in the forest I had made my home," he said.

My eyes widened and I half-snarled at the realization, "Quirrell."

Voldemort's crimson eyes slid to me in amusement. "Very good, my dear. Quirinus Quirrel, indeed…"

I shivered at his…pet name for me. 'My dear'. It made me sick, the way he said it as if I were his.

I swore to myself then and there that if so much as one of those bloody Death Eaters made another comment, or a move, like that, I'd hex their bits off. I thought, as the Americans put it, screw it.

But I listened attentively, trying to make mental notes so I could remember this all later, to how Voldemort tried to regain his power, and how Harry and I thwarted him over and over…until today.

"….But how to get at Harry Potter and Isabella Swan? …"

I waited a bit impatiently to figure out the truth, in hopes of using the knowledge if—_if_—Harry and I got out of here alive. The imperative word was if. _If…_The chances of us making it back to Hogwarts _dead_ was slim enough. Alive….that was very, very, very, very close to impossible. It was only a matter of minutes before he murdered us in cold blood. Trying to maintain some dignity, I somehow managed to keep the terror from my face, instead managing an expression of calm. Oddly, it was easy enough. I kind of already knew I wouldn't live to see my home—Hogwarts—again, my friends, my _real_ family, and safety again. No… I would never see them again. There was no fear in me now, only acceptance. They would most likely never know why I never returned from my little walk. Nor what happened to Harry and me, not to mention Cedric. Poor Cedric…

I felt a pang of guilt. If he and Harry hadn't agreed on a tie, he would be alive.

Ignoring the pricking I felt in my eyes, I opened them and forced myself to listen to my nightmare's words.

"…My father's bone, naturally, meant that we would have to come here, where he was buried. But blood of foes….Wormtail would have had me use any wizard, would you not, Wormtail? Any wizard who had hated me…as so many of them do. But I knew the ones I had to use, if I was to rise again, more powerful than I had been when I had fallen. I wanted Harry Potter and Isabella Lestrange's blood. I wanted the blood of the two children of both the wretched Order of the Phoenix and my loyal Death Eaters. I wanted the blood of the ones who had stripped me of my powers thirteen years ago…for the lingering protection Potter's mother once gave them would then reside in my veins…"

He droned on and on. How could the Death Eaters stand it? I mean, I guessed Voldemort would do this great monologue before he killed Harry and me, but this was ridiculous…What was he trying to do? Bore Harry and me to death?

"….So how could I take them?

"Why, by using Bertha Jorkins's information, of course. Use one faithful Death Eater, stationed at Hogwarts, to ensure the boy's name was entered into the Goblet of Fire. Use my Death Eater to ensure that the boy won the tournament—that he touched the Triwizard Cup first—the cup which my Death Eater had turned into a Portkey, which brought him here. And while everyone was preoccupied with finding the boy, my Death Eater would incapacitate the girl and bring her here, with the boy. Here, beyond the reach of Dumbledore's help and protection, and into my waiting my arms. And here they are…the children you all believed had been my downfall…" I exchanged worried glances with Harry.

Voldemort moved slowly forward and faced Harry and me, his wand raised.

My eyes were locked on it, without fear in my gaze. I didn't know what they saw on my face. Maybe bravery. Maybe indifference. Maybe acceptance.

I didn't know. I didn't really care.

But, I figured he wouldn't kill us right off the bat. No. He'd want to torture us, to have us begging for death first. He would not allow us a quick way out.

"_Crucio!_"

The pain hit me then. I could tell Harry was hit as well. A loud cry of pain escaped from my throat before I could stop it. I clamped my mouth shut. Pain…pain…pain. Like nothing I had ever experienced before. I almost wanted to die right then and there. Almost. Except that I knew that giving up right then would be letting them win. Through the haze of pain, I distinctly heard Harry yelling in pain and the mocking laughter of the watching Death Eaters.

I wanted to die right then, or very close to wanting to…

But then it was gone, the pain, I mean. I let out a quiet, shaky breath as I hung there, limp. I glared boldly at Voldemort, the beginning of a snarl on my face.

"You see, I think, how foolish it is to suppose that these _children_ could ever have been stronger than me," he said, his crimson eyes flicking from Harry to me and back with a look of disdain. "But I want there to be no mistake in anybody's mind. Harry Potter and Isabella Lestrange escaped me by a lucky chance. And I am going to prove my power by killing them, here and now, in front of you all, when there is no Dumbledore to protect them, no filthy Mudblood to die for them. I will give them their chances. They will be allowed to fight, and you will be left in no doubt which of us is the stronger. Now untie them, Wormtail, and give them back their wands."

Wormtail crept forward and obeyed Voldemort's commands, using the new silver hand Voldemort had transfigured for him. I glared at him hatefully. It was because of him that Lily and James Potter had been killed. He flinched a bit at my glare and then avoided my gaze. Good.

After untying Harry and me, he shoved our wands into our hands—though I snatched mine from him. I sent a Bat-Boogey Hex at him silently, smirking as I heard him in pain and the mocking laughter of the other Death Eaters.

Harry's leg was still hurt. It shook almost imperceptibly under his weight. Very subtly, I pointed my wand at his leg and thought the spell. There was no visual clue I had done any magic, save the fact that Harry looked shocked and was standing normally now. None had noticed, as they'd been laughing at Pettigrew.

The Death Eaters had all stepped forward, closing all the gaps.

"You have been taught how to duel, Potter, Lestrange?" Voldemort said softly, his crimson eyes glinting in the darkness.

"I believe that it the point of having a Dueling Club, is it not?" I replied loudly and cheekily.

The snakelike eyes narrowed, but he continued, "We bow to each other first, Harry, Isabella," He was grinning a bit, amused, bending a bit. Neither Harry nor I moved. "Come now. The niceties must be observed…Dumbledore would like you to show manners….Bow to Death, Harry, Isabella." He ordered, smiling, amused. The Death Eaters were laughing again. Neither Harry nor I obliged. We weren't going to give them the satisfaction of toying with us before killing us.

I shrugged and spat, "I don't feel much like it, _Tom_."

"I said, _bow_," Voldemort ordered, raising his wand. I could sense he was about to use a spell, so, very discreetly, I cast the nonverbal spell, _Finite Incantatem!_

I rolled my eyes at the simplicity of Voldemort's idea. Use a spell to make us bow? Pathetic. "If it will make you shut up." I muttered, just loud enough for dear Voldie to hear. I nodded my head in the smallest version of a bow. Harry did the same.

"That will do," he said softly, "And now you face me, like a man—" I huffed loudly, indignantly. Sexist much? "—straight-backed and proud, the way James Potter died…

"And now—we duel."

Voldemort raised his wand, and mine was already raised in the air. Before I could even wonder what he'd do, I was hit with the Cruciatus Curse. The pain was beyond anything I'd ever felt before today. I thought I was going to die. I don't even know how I managed to keep from screaming or falling. Miraculously, through the pain, I somehow kept my footing. I was almost doubled over—_almost_—and was shaking. Vaguely, I could hear the Death Eaters laughing and Harry screaming to my right. He apparently hadn't been spared.

Then it ended. I staggered sideways, into the wall of watching Death Eaters. One of them pushed me back towards my former spot.

I helped Harry up from where he'd fallen and then looked back to Voldemort. "A small break. That hurt, didn't it, Harry? Isabella? You don't want me to do it again, do you?"

Harry and I remained silent.

He didn't like that. "I asked you whether you want me to do that again. Answer me! _Imperio!_"

I hid a smirk as I felt the blissful sensation take over again. The bliss was like an almost welcomed retreat from the pain, wiping my mind of all thought, but I was not fooled.

…_just say no,_ a voice said in my mind…._Just say no…just answer no…_

But a stronger voice, my mind's voice, said back, I will not. I won't. I won't give them the satisfaction. I won't let this monster defeat me.

With Professor Moody's lessons in mind, it was easy to throw it off. I did it immediately.

I grinned tauntingly at Voldemort. "I don't think I'll comply." I said softly but strongly back.

"I WON'T!" Harry yelled beside me, and my grin was suddenly a bit more genuine.

Our words echoed in the graveyard. The Death Eaters weren't laughing now.

"You won't?" Voldemort said. It was obvious he was angry. I felt my scar prickle uncomfortably. "You won't say no? Isabella, Harry, obedience is a virtue I apparently need to teach you. Perhaps another dose of pain?"

"Tuck and roll," I murmured, just barely loud enough for Harry to hear…"Now."

On the signal, Harry and I flung ourselves out of the way, rolling behind headstones. I heard the headstone I was behind crack as the curse hit it.

The Death Eaters were laughing now. I heard Voldemort's cold voice coming nearer as he said, "We aren't playing hide-and-seek. Are you tiring of our duel, then? You cannot hide from me, children. Does this mean you are ready for it to be over with? Come out and play then…it will be quick….It might even be painless. I do not know…. I have never died before."

I remained crouched behind the headstone as the Death Eaters guffawed and jeered.

In my peripheral vision, I saw a Death Eater approach me.

_Stupefy!_ I thought, and, with a bang, the masked person fell, unconscious. I grinned a bit. One down. Fifty or so to go. I knew that, since I was going to die, I'd go down fighting.

I heard Voldemort approaching. It was the end. Harry and I were about to die. There was no one to help us. We were on our own.

Harry was beside me now.

"We can't just die kneeling at his feet," Harry muttered.

I nodded, and we stood.

"Have it your way then," I said to Voldemort, my wand raised and pointed at his ink black heart.

Voldemort smiled, amused.

I guess I could read Harry's mind or something, because I knew exactly what he was going to do.

"_Expelliarmus!_" We cried simultaneously and at the same time that Voldemort yelled, "_Avada Kedavra!_"

Twin blasts of red light flew from Harry's and my wands and met the green jet of light from Voldemort's wand, meeting midair. Abruptly, my wand was vibrating in my tight grip. Suddenly, an odd thread of light connected the wands—not red or green, but a bright, shining gold. Harry was beside me, clutching his shaking wand, too, and our nemesis across from us was too.

The Death Eaters were yelling in alarm, asking their 'master' for directions, while forming a tight circle around our little duel, some drawing their wands.

All of the sudden, the golden beam of light split, and thousands of strand bursting from the midpoint between the three of us, weaving above and around us until we were surrounded by a golden dome-shaped web, with the Death Eaters surrounding the outside of it, alarmed.

"Do nothing!" Voldemort was shrieking to his supporters, his snakelike eyes wide in astonishment. "Do nothing until I command you!"

Then a hauntingly familiar melody filled the air. A phoenix's song, I realized.

I held my wand tighter as I saw Voldemort trying to break the wands' connection.

The unearthly melody grew stronger, and I suddenly felt as if it was telling me something…_Don't break the connection._

I saw Harry's hand tighten on his wand, as if he heard the odd message, too.

Beads of light began to gather on the thread, and it appeared as if Voldemort was pushing the light towards us. As it neared our wands, the vibrated more violently than ever, as if they would be destroyed. I concentrated, and, somehow, with Harry's help, pushed the little beads of light into Voldemort's wand.

Promptly, Voldemort's yew wand emitted pained screams—ones that sounded like Harry's and mine from a few minutes before. They changed, to the echoed shrieks of his then-tortured Death Eaters. Then, the screams stopped, the ghost of Wormtail's silver hand came from the tip…then, it was a head, looking as if made from the thickest densest smoke …a torso and arms…a person...the echo of Cedric Diggory.

I almost dropped my wand in shock, and Harry looked the same way. What the—

"Hold on, Harry, Bella," the shadow of Cedric said.

Voldemort looked so shocked, even more than before.

Then, another figure was emerging. The old man I'd seen in my dream before the beginning of this year. He looked from Voldemort, to the golden threads, to Harry and me. "A real wizard, then? Killed me, that one….You two fight him."

Next, a woman emerged. I guessed it to be Bertha Jorkins. "Don't let go, now!" she cried, surveying our battle. "Don't let him win, Harry, Bella! Don't let go!"

The dead victims of Voldemort continued to encourage us, and I suddenly felt like we might not die today.

Another figure with long hair emerged from the wand, and straightened. Harry gaped at the echo of his mother. She regarded Harry and me warmly. "Hold on for James, you two. Hang on, sweethearts! Hold on!"

Then, another figure materialized from the wand, looking very much like Harry, only older.

"When the connection is broken, we will linger for only a moment…but we will give you time…You must get to the Portkey! It will return you to Hogwarts. Do you two understand?"

Both Harry and I nodded fervently. My wand slipped a little in my hand, and I held it tighter.

The shadow-Cedric said, "Harry, Bella, take my body back to my parents, will you?"

"We will," Harry said, his face screwed up with the effort to hold on to his wand.

"Do it now, Harry, Bella," James Potter's shadow said. "Be ready to run. Do it…"

"NOW!" Harry yelled, and we simultaneously wretched our wands away from the golden threads of magic. The strands of light broke, the cage of light vanished, and the phoenix song died—but the echoes of the victims remained. They crowded Voldemort, blocking Harry and I from his sight.

And Harry and I ran, like never before in our lives, throwing curses and hexes and jinxes over my shoulder nonverbally. I heard Harry doing the same verbally.

"_Stun them!_" I heard Voldemort yell.

Luckily, we dodged all their spells, except one.

In a desperate attempt, I threw up shields, but they weren't very well aimed

I saw Antonin Dolohov say something unintelligible as he made a sudden slashing movement with his wand, and what looked like purple flames flew from his wand and hit me. Pain hit me, from inside my torso. From what I could briefly glimpse while fleeing, despite the fact that unconsciousness was dangerously close for me, there was no visible sign of injury—it had to be internal. The pain I felt almost drove me to pass out as I fled with Harry. Almost.

But I kept running, although I was clutching my stomach. But otherwise, neither Harry nor I were hit.

They, however, weren't as lucky. Several were hit.

Harry and I reached Cedric's body at the same time. Each grabbing one of Cedric's hands, I was firing curses and hexes at the Death Eaters, barely managing to keep them at bay.

"Stand aside!" I could hear Voldemort yell. "I will kill them! They are mine!"

I could see Voldemort now, his crimson eyes glowing in the fading light, his lipless mouth curling into a grin, his yew wand raised—

"_Accio!_" I heard Harry yell, his holly wand pointed at the Triwizard Cup.

It flew through the air, towards Harry and me. I raised my hand so I could grab it at the same instant as Harry. Our hands grasped the cup concurrently.

I heard Voldemort's yell of absolute fury at the same instant I felt the jerk behind the navel. Voldemort, the Death Eaters, and the graveyard vanished in a whirl of color and wind.

Then, with Harry beside me, and us bringing Cedric's corpse with us, we thudded to the earth, on our stomachs. I winced, as my abdomen made contact with the ground.

All the air in my lungs was forced out, and I coughed. The air was filled with screams and yells and murmurings and footsteps. All the while, my scar burned painfully, but I hardly noticed because of the pain in my stomach.

We were back. And we were alive.


	27. Late May, 1995: End of Book 4

**Late May 1995**

Tears were still fresh on my face, and still falling, in grief, pain—both physical and emotional—, and terror.

"Harry? What—Bella?" A familiar voice called—shock and concern in the tone. Dumbledore. I held my ribs and stomach as I rolled over weakly, painfully. I cried out softly a the pain. Dumbledore was turning Harry over. McGonagall and Fudge were right behind him. McGonagall crouched beside me, giving me a quick check over; I winced when she got to my stomach and the deep cut in the crook of my arm.

"What happened?" McGonagall asked me, nearly frantic.

"Voldemort," I croaked weakly, softly. "He's back. Voldemort's back…"

Only she, Dumbledore, and Harry heard.

"My God!" Fudge gasped. "Diggory! He—he's dead!"

His words were repeated by people in the stands. Several were sobbing and crying or screaming.

Out of my peripheral vision, I caught sight of Hermione, Ron, and the rest of the Weasleys. I caught Hermione's worried gaze and mouthed 'We're okay'. She looked very sad at the news of the death of a classmate, but nodded to me.

I released my grip on the Triwizard Cup and Cedric's limp, cold wrist.

Vaguely, I heard Dumbledore coaxing Harry to do the same and Harry say that Cedric wanted us to bring his body back.

"What happened to your stomach?" McGonagall asked, concerned. In my tangential vision, I saw Dumbledore help Harry to his feet.

"Dolohov…" I managed to get out bitterly, my voice weak and faint. "Antonin Dolohov cursed me…"

"We need to get her to the Hospital Wing," McGonagall said, bloodlessly pale, to Dumbledore.

"I—I'll be fine for now," I said, forcing myself to stand. I winced, almost doubling over.

I heard Fudge saying something to Dumbledore about Cedric's parents, then someone offering to take Harry and me, but Dumbledore declined.

I staggered as I stood, still unbelievably weak and sore from the Cruciatus, and pained—almost the amount of pain from the Cruciatus.

As I saw Madam Pomfrey rushing down towards us, I heard Moody lead Harry away to his office.

"What happened, Bella?" McGonagall asked again, supporting me so I didn't collapse.

"Went down by the lake for some air," I murmured weakly, as they half lead me, half carried me to the Hospital Wing. "Someone…someone ambushed me—Stunned me. I woke up in a graveyard, near Voldemort's father's old home. The Cup was a Portkey, and Harry and Cedric landed then. Peter bloody Pettigrew showed up…he—he k-killed Cedric. Tied Harry and me up. Took Harry's and my blood. Made a potion. H-he got his body back—Voldemort, I mean. Summoned the Death Eaters. He tried to make Harry and I duel him. We took hits from the Cruciatus and Imperious…but we threw off the latter. Then…our wands…Harry's, Voldemort's, and mine…did something funny…"

Then it hit me. "Priori Incantatem…" Of course. That caused the echoes to appear. "…The echoes…of his victims…Cedric, an old Muggle man, Bertha Jorkins, and Lily and James Potter…they all helped Harry and me escape. We had to run for the Cup. Harry was ahead of me, and I was throwing curses and hexes at the pursuing Death Eaters. A-Antonin D-D-Dolohov hit me with some curse—"

I gasped as I halted and winced, clutching my abdomen. My vision was fuzzy all of the sudden, and I thought I'd pass out. Madam Pomfrey is at my side, holding me steady, too.

McGonagall supported me with surprising strength.

"I—I almost passed out, when I was hit," I continued. "But I kept running. Harry used the Summoning Charm on the cup when we got to—to Ced-Cedric's body. We grabbed the cup, just as Voldemort reached us." Absently, I rubbed my prickling scar. "He isn't happy."

McGonagall was looking at me almost disbelievingly.

"He is back," a voice said behind us. I jumped, looking. Snape was there, paler than normal, apparently having followed us. "My mark burned earlier. It's back. He is back."

Suddenly, as I looked at the Potions Master, I was pulled into my memory of a few weeks ago. He had suspected Harry of stealing from his personal stores—boomslang skin—and that Harry had used it for Polyjuice potion.

The Death Eater in Hogwarts would need Polyjuice Potion constantly to remain inconspicuous. But drinking mud-like liquid or adding hairs into their drink would not be inconspicuous.

I gasped, halting in my tracks.

It wasn't Snape or Karkaroff who was the Death Eater in Hogwarts. No. It was someone no one would suspect—ever.

Someone who wasn't even who they claimed they were.

"We need to find Dumbledore and Harry and Moody." I said, my eyes wide.

"Bella," McGonagall said sternly. "You need to be in the Hospital Wing, not gallivanting around the school!"

I set my jaw, hiding the pain from my features. "Not when it comes to the safety of everyone here, and one of my best friends!"

Bracing myself, I took off down the hall, to Moody's office. I streaked past aggrieved students and even a few teachers—including Dumbledore, who seemed to be heading the same way.

I got the Moody's office before any of my pursuers. Slamming the door open, my wand raised, I yelled, "_Stupefy!_"

Moody had been in the middle of standing from his seat behind his desk, pulling out his wand at Harry. But now, from my spell, 'Moody' was thrown back to the floor. I went forward towards him, my wand at his throat.

"Bella?" Harry asked, confused.

"That's not Alastor Moody!" I growled, my wand literally at his throat.

Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape were right behind me. Dumbledore looked….scary, to put it simply. The merry twinkle was gone from his eye, replaced by a fierce fire. There was no benevolent smile on his face. I now saw why he was the only wizard Voldemort ever feared—he seemed to have an aura of power, crackling and hissing around him like electricity. No hint of the gentle benevolence that he normally emitted remained. McGonagall, too, had that air of power, albeit not as strong as her superior. She still looked like a force to be reckoned with. Which, I knew, she was.

All three had their wands trained on him, like me.

"Come along, Bella, Harry," McGonagall said, trying to lead us out. "Come along. The Hospital Wing…"

"No," Dumbledore interrupted sharply. I smiled in agreement.

"But, look at them. She is injured, thanks to Dolohov, and they've been through enough tonight…"

"No," He said again. "They will stay because they need to understand….Severus, I need you to fetch me the strongest Truth Potion you possess. Minerva, kindly go down to Hagrid's house, where you will find a large black dog sitting in the pumpkin patch. Please take the dog to the Hospital Wing and tell him I will be with him shortly, and then return here."

Both teachers nodded, and swiftly left. I listened, leaning heavily on the desk, as Dumbledore found the real Moody in the magic trunk.

"Harry, throw down the imposter's cloak," I heard him call up to us from inside the trunk. "He is freezing. Madam Pomfrey will need to see him—after Bella, of course—but he is in no immediate danger."

While Harry complied, I took the hipflask and opened it, then turned it upside down. Thick, glutinous mud-like liquid splattered out.

"Polyjuice Potion," I said. "I was right. So simple and brilliant…."

Then Snape and McGonagall returned a minute later.

I watched, enduring the pain, as the three teachers interrogated him via use of Veritaserum.

I'd been right. He wasn't Moody. He was Barty Crouch Jr. and he'd been using Polyjuice Potion, like I'd guessed.

He'd murdered his father, who'd helped him escape Azkaban…He helped Voldemort regain his body…

And all the rest.

Afterwards, Dumbledore gave McGonagall and Snape instructions, he lead Harry and me to the Hospital Wing.

The need to fall into unconsciousness was getting near impossible to fight now; I didn't know how I managed not to in the first place. My vision was getting a bit blurred.

Harry had an arm around my shoulders, helping me walk. The pain was terrible in my abdomen, like my organs were being ripped out and torn to shreds.

Harry told them what had happened. When Harry told of how Voldemort had explained why he wanted our blood specifically, I noticed something. For a brief moment, there was a gleam of triumph in Dumbledore's eyes, but it quickly disappeared. When Harry spoke of the Priori Incantatem effect, Dumbledore explained how Harry's, Voldemort's, and my wand all shared cores—Phoenix feathers from Fawkes, in fact. How odd.

When we finally reached the Hospital Wing, I wasn't surprised Sirius was there. Dumbledore had asked McGonagall to bring him here.

My head was heavy and spinning. The room was flickering in and out of focus. It was getting harder to breathe. I still held my abdomen

"Harry, what—?" Sirius said, but when he saw me, his question was cut off but another. "Bella—what are you…? What happened? Are you alright?"

I could only get out one word before I slipped into unconsciousness right then and there: "No…"

The pain and unconscious consumed me…

**XXX**

"No," came the squeak from Bella, just she sunk to the floor.

Madam Pomfrey came rushed over. "Out of my way, out of my way! _Mobilicorpus!_" She ordered, magicking Bella's bloodlessly pale, inert form onto one of the hospital cots.

Harry sat down on the cot next to the one Bella was on, Sirius standing beside him.

Then, voices were heard approaching the Hospital Wing door. Swiftly, Sirius transformed into his black dog Animagus form.

It was just in time. Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Ron, and Hermione burst in, looking worried and concerned.

"What happened? Are you alright? What—what's wrong with Bella?" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed.

Dumbledore stepped forward, trying to calm the frantic woman. "It is alright, both she and Harry will be fine, Molly. I must ask you to calm yourself."

Briefly, Dumbledore told the three Weasleys, Hermione, and, unknown to Mrs. Weasley and Bill, Sirius what Harry and Bella had been through. Madam Pomfrey listened as she worked.

"My word!" Molly Weasley exclaimed. "He—he's back?"

Dumbledore nodded as the others were silent in shock.

**XXX**

When I reached consciousness, I heard Mrs. Weasley's voice.

"…My word! He—he's back?"

I was laying on a cot in the Hospital Wing.

I cracked open my eyes and saw eight people were in the Hospital Wing near.

Harry sat on the cot to my right, Sirius (in his Animagus form) at his feet. Hermione, Ron, Bill, and Mrs. Weasley were all nearby, looking shocked and aghast. Dumbledore was there, too, looking as if deep in thought. Madam Pomfrey was standing next to the bed, her wand in hand, but she was staring out the window, deep in thought.

Moody was unconscious on a cot at the far end of the wing.

I stirred, trying to sit up.

The movement caused pain to shoot through my abdomen. I gasped sharply, wincing as I fell back onto the fluffed pillow.

"Don't you dare move, Miss Swan!" Madam Pomfrey scolded. "It's a wonder you got away from the Death Eaters after a curse like that—much less go wandering around the castle after that Death Eater!"

"It wasn't easy," I muttered weakly.

"I'd imagine!" she exclaimed, furious. "I'm amazed you didn't pass out instantly! That curse did quite a bit of damage—without you running around!" she growled unhappily, "It could very bloody well have killed you!"

"I guessed as much," I whispered hoarsely. "What did it do?"

She looked at me for a long moment, then sighed a bit sadly. "Severe internal damage to several major organs. Severe internal injuries to _many_ organs. Internal bleeding. Rather painful damage, I assume."

I nodded weakly.

On a scale from one to ten, ten being Cruciatus Curse bad and one being nothing, I'd say 9.9, but that's just an estimate. But, I wasn't going to tell her that.

"Is—is Professor Moody okay?" I asked, trying to change the subject, looking at the old ex-Auror.

"He'll be fine." She replied shortly. "Just a bit of rest. As for you, you will most likely remain here for the rest of term. Actually, I think you'll be lucky if you don't go to St. Mungo's…"

"What?" I exclaimed loudly, then winced, my hand flying to my abdomen.

She nodded. "Yes, but that might change, if you rest properly. I will need to speak with Professor Snape about brewing some potions for you. We'll see, depending on how quickly the potions can be brewed, upon how quickly you'll be able to leave. As for now, I need you to drink this." She handed me a goblet of violet liquid.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Dreamless sleep potion. Drink up. You'll rather be unconscious while I work on the internal injuries. Trust me, Miss Swan."

"Five minute, Madam Pomfrey, please?" I asked weakly.

She sighed. "Only five."

"Thank you." I said, as she walked brusquely into her office.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked me.

"Brilliant," I said, "if I could just leave. What is going on, exactly?"

"Fudge isn't happy," Mrs. Weasley told me, a bit worriedly. "But you just rest, dear."

After a minute or two, Madam Pomfrey came back and gave me the goblet of potion, and gave Harry some of the same potion.

Hesitantly, I sipped it, and immediately felt drowsy. Before I could even finish the potion, I felt the exhaustion take hold, and I sunk into unconsciousness…

I woke to the sound of whispers.

"…What are they shouting about? Nothing else can have happened, can it?"

"That's Fudge's voice," I heard Mrs. Weasley say. "And that's Minerva McGonagall's isn't it? But what are they arguing about?"

I opened my eyes, and tried to sit up, but winced and sank back down into the pillow.

I heard hurried footsteps and furious yelling echoing into the halls towards the infirmary.

"Regrettable, but all the same, Minerva—" Cornelius Fudge was shouting.

The doors burst open as the Minister of Magic strode in, McGonagall and Snape at his heels.

"You should have never brought that _thing_ into the castle!" McGonagall screamed, more furious than I'd ever seen. "When Albus finds out—"

McGonagall looked absolutely terrifying. She was beyond livid, with angry patches of color in her cheeks and her hands curled into fists. She shook with rage.

Right as she said it, the doors on the opposite end of the wing opened and Dumbledore came in.

"What's happened?" Dumbledore asked sharply. "Why are you disturbing these people? Minerva, I'm surprised at you—I asked you to stand guard over Barty Crouch—"

"Oh, there is no need to stand guard any more, Albus!" She shrieked, glaring furiously at Fudge. "The Minister has seen to that!"

I sat up a bit, careful not to move too much. What in the world…

"When we told Mr. Fudge that we had caught the Death Eater responsible for tonight's events, he seemed to feel his personal safety was in question." Snape said, looking calm, but somehow annoyed at Fudge. "He insisted upon summoning a dementor to accompany him into the castle…"

My insides ran cold. Dementors. If my boggart wasn't my mother, it would most certainly be a dementor.

I listen, a bit wearily, and gathered what'd happened. Fudge had brought a dementor with him for his 'personal safety'. The dementor performed the Dementor's Kiss upon Barty Crouch—or, had the soul sucked out of him.

"…You-Know-Who…returned?" Fudge was sputtering. "Preposterous. Come now, Dumbledore…"

Dumbledore tried and tried to tell Fudge that Voldemort was back, but he just wouldn't listen to reason.

"You are prepared to believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, on the word of a lunatic murderer and two underage students, who, well…" Fudge said doubtfully.

"You've been reading Rita Skeeter, Minister," I said loudly.

Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Ron, and Hermione all jumped; they hadn't realized Harry or I were conscious.

"And if I have?" He said indignantly. He looked to the Headmaster. "If I have discovered that you've been keeping certain facts about them quiet? Parselmouths, eh? Not to mention the fact that the girl is the daughter of two convicted Death Eaters!"

"How dare you!" I shrieked, my temper surpassing even McGonagall's. I felt the blood rushing my face in anger. My knuckles were white because I'd clenched my fists so tightly. It hurt badly just to breath, let alone whisper a word, but I completely forgot that as I shrieked in indignity and absolute fury.

"How dare you judge me by that! I changed my name for a reason, I'll have you bloody well know! I hate my parents more than anyone else here, added together, thank you very much! I am glad they are in Azkaban! If I didn't know any better, Mr. Fudge, with all due respect, I'd say you are no better than those blood purists who judge everyone by their pedigree. I'm not my mother! I didn't side with my parents! You can't judge me on something so—so trivial and degrading! I don't believe you—you—"

"Miss Swan, that is quite enough!" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed sternly, trying to make me sit back down. "Do not make me sedate you!" She turned to Fudge. "With all due respect, Minister, Miss Swan has sustained severe internal injuries, and I need to inspect the damage to judge whether or not she needs to go to St. Mungo's. So, if you would, please remove yourselves from the Hospital Wing and continue your conversation elsewhere."

"No!" I exclaimed. "Harry and I should hear this! We were there! We saw it! We dueled him! We escaped him! We deserve to be a part of this discussion!"

"We do!" Harry agreed.

"How did she even get the internal injuries?" Mrs. Weasley asked suddenly, looking worriedly at me.

"Antonin Dolohov!" I said, still annoyed. "When Harry and I made a brake for it, he cursed me! Not that Mr. Fudge would believe me even if I gave him the memory!"

"Now, see here, young lady! I am the Minister of Magic and I deserve some respect!"

I opened my mouth to give a fiery retort—something intelligent like 'I'll show respect when you earn it!'—but Madam Pomfrey pointed her wand at me warningly.

"Fine," I spat irately, crossing my arms, then wincing badly.

Fudge nodded approvingly to Madam Pomfrey, who gave him a scathing look, but said nothing. He looked back to Dumbledore. "Not to mention them both having funny turns all over the place—"

"Listen to me, Cornelius," Dumbledore said. For the second time today, he no longer looked like the kind, candy-loving, benign old Headmaster—but instead the powerful, wise warlock he was reputed to be. "Harry and Bella are just as sane as you or I. Their scars have not addled their brains!"

Had I ever mentioned how much I admired Dumbledore? No? I have now.

"For heaven's sake, Dumbledore! The two were full of crackpot tales at the end of last year, too. Their tales are getting taller and you are still swallowing them! They can speak to snakes, and you find them trustworthy?" Fudge accused, his face a deep puce color.

"You fool!" McGonagall cried. I admire her a lot, too. "Cedric Diggory! Mr. Crouch! These deaths were not the random work of a lunatic—and Miss Swan here nearly joined them just minutes ago because of her internal injuries!"

Thank you, Professor McGonagall, I thought appreciatively. My favorite professor here.

Still annoyed, I listened as they bickered. In a cosmic sort of way, it was funny. But to me, right now, it was just annoying.

I guess Harry looked as if he wanted to get up and join their dispute, but Mrs. Weasley had a restraining hand upon his shoulder, as Madam Pomfrey had on mine.

Eventually, Fudge said, with the hint of a plea in his tone, "He can't be back, he just can't be…."

I never liked him…

Snape strode forward and pulled up the left sleeve of his robe, exposing his forearm, where I knew the Dark Mark was, and showed it to Fudge, who recoiled.

"There," Snape spat harshly. "The Dark Mark. It is not as clear as it was an hour ago, when it burned black, but you can still see it. It has been growing clearer all year."

Fudge, bloodlessly pale, stepped back from Snape and crammed his hat on his head. He pulled out a large bag of gold from his pocket and set it on the table beside Harry's cot. "Your winnings. One thousand Galleons." He said coldly before saying to Dumbledore, "I don't know what you and your staff are playing at, Dumbledore, but I have heard enough. I must return to the Ministry…"

At that, he strode out.

"Good riddance." I muttered shrewdly, even though just breathing hurt. "Now, now, none of that," Mrs. Weasley tutted.

I shrugged, then winced again.

Dumbledore sighed watching Fudge go. Perhaps because he knew Fudge was being a bloody git. Perhaps because this would not be a good thing. I didn't know.

He turned back to the large group in the wing. He asked Sirius to return to normal form, and he complied. Mrs. Weasley freaked out, McGonagall didn't even bat an eye, Madam Pomfrey wasn't paying attention to them, and Snape was glaring daggers at Sirius. After explaining to them, he asked Sirius to alert the 'old crowd', and Sirius left.

Dumbledore turned to Snape and asked, "Severus, you know what I must ask you to do. If you are ready…if you are prepared…"

"I am," Snape said, looking paler than normal.

"Then good luck," Dumbledore said, and Snape swept from the Hospital Wing.

I guessed that he would be resuming his role as double-agent.

Dumbledore looked to Mrs. Weasley. "Molly, can I count on you and Arthur?"

"Of course you can." She reassured him.

He nodded. "Good. I must see the Diggorys. Harry, Bella, listen to Madam Pomfrey. I will see all of you later." And he left the Hospital Wing.

I heard Mrs. Weasley fussing at Harry to drink the potion.

Madam Pomfrey handed me the goblet of potion. "Drink up."

"But—"

"No. You need to rest, Bella. I need to check how severe the damage is and I know you certainly are in pain this moment. Now, drink up."

Obediently, I swallowed the tasteless potion and slipped into blissful, painless unconsciousness.

**XXX**

The three Weasleys and Hermione all remained stationary in the Hospital Wing, worried about Bella, while Madam Pomfrey checked to see the exact amount of damage the bloody curse had done. She had been prepared for a long list—but she didn't expect it to be as bad as it really was. Severe internal bleeding to her stomach, intestines, liver, spleen, and a kidney. Ruptured spleen—which alone could be fatal. Very severe damage to many organs, including lungs, stomach, intestines, liver, spleen, pancreas, a kidney, gall bladder, colon, and others.

Madam Pomfrey was a gifted Healer, but this was beyond her abilities.

The poor girl had to go to St. Mungo's. Immediately.

"Molly, can you watch her and Harry for me?" she asked the red-haired mother.

"Of course I can. What's wrong?" Mrs. Weasley replied, concerned.

Madam Pomfrey hesitated, then replied, "I need to notify St. Mungo's. This is beyond anything I imagined or can cure."

Later, Bella had been transferred to the wizarding hospital in London. Harry, on the other hand, was released from the Hospital Wing later that night.

The next morning, there was a very conspicuous empty spot at the Gryffindor table beside Hermione. The three's mood was miserable and worried. Most of the school was in a grieving mood anyways, because of the death yesterday, but the three Gryffindors' melancholy was obvious and noticed.

Many noticed, but few asked. The first one who dared ask was Ginny.

Hesitantly, she had asked, with many listening, "What's wrong? Where is Bella?"

Hermione sadly explained, "Bella was cursed last night when she and Harry were, well, you know, by a Death Eater, with some unknown curse. It really did a number on her. She was transferred to St. Mungo's last night."

"Bloody hell!" Fred and George exclaimed as one.

"Is she okay?" Ginny gasped worriedly. During the many times that Bella had stayed at the Burrow, she and Bella had grown close—and closer still in the recent couple years. Both Bella and Hermione were like the older sisters she'd always wanted but never had.

Harry replied, "We don't know. We haven't heard anything yet."

"What did the curse do to her?" asked Katie Bell.

"We're not sure," Harry said. "Madam Pomfrey wouldn't tell us exactly how bad it was, but really severe internal injuries and internal bleeding."

"Bloody hell," Dean Thomas said. "Do you think she'll recover by the end of the year?"

Ron shrugged. "Don't know."

**A/N: Note. I've changed it so that the Third Task was midway through May. Harry isn't exempt from the exams—which will be in the first week of June.**

**XXX**

After a long day of classes, everyone was in the Great Hall, eating dinner, with several owls fluttering in and out. Some with the _Evening Prophet_, some with letters from parents or friends and relatives.

One familiar snowy owl flew in towards the Gryffindor table, where it dropped a small piece of parchment in front of Hermione, then soared towards the staff table and dropped letters in front of Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout, Snape, Hagrid, Vector, and Sinistra.

McGonagall caught her mail before it landed in her dinner. There was a short note tied to two scrolls of parchment. The note only said two words: _Thank you_. She unrolled the parchments and found that they were the essay she'd assigned her fourth years and an essay about goblin rebellions for a History of Magic class. Bella had finished them in less than a day.

Beside her, Sprout had unrolled her parchment and found it was a completed Bubotuber essay, with a few extra inches, that she'd assigned for the fourth years.

Next to the Herbology teacher, Flitwick found the same letter he'd written in reply to Bella Swan's original letter requesting any missed assignments, only she had charmed the parchment. One side was a deep blue and the other a slightly metallic bronze—the color of Ravenclaw, the small Charms teacher's House! He laughed a bit and said to McGonagall, "She's quite clever isn't she?" He showed her the parchment and she chuckled, nodding.

The other professors were happy to know their student was working hard, even while in St Mungo's.

Except Severus Snape. He'd unrolled the parchment and quickly read the essay. He frowned resentfully. He hated to admit it, but the girl knew what she was writing about. She was one of the best Potions students in her year, and Snape only hated her more for that.

He gave the parchment a look of deepest loathing—one he usually reserved for Potter or Swan—and set it down.

Beside him, Charity Burbage noticed the look he gave the paper, and, curious, she grabbed the parchment and read it. "Why so unhappy with the essay, Severus?" she asked the bitter Potions Master. "It seems perfect."

He glowered at her. "Precisely." He muttered, snatching the paper and sweeping out of the hall.

"Someone forgot their medication this morning…" She muttered.

"What?" Aurora Sinistra asked.

"Oh nothing," the Muggle Studies professor replied, smiling to herself in amusement as she sipped her tea.

**XXX**

" Time for me to go?" I asked the Healer anxiously.

"Sure is. Here," she said as she handed me a small knapsack. "That has your potions in there. If you've got everything else, just head downstairs to the Ground Floor and you can use the Floo network, okay?"

I nodded. "Thank you very much for helping me." At that, I gave her a swift hug before practically bouncing down the stairways, to the lobby of St. Mungo's. Quickly, anxiously, I went to a fireplace, grabbed a handful of the glittering power, stepped up to the fire, threw the powder into the flames which turned emerald green, stepped in it and shouted, "Hogwarts!"

There was a whirl of emerald flames and I had landed in a fireplace in someone's office. That someone had been sitting at their desk and jumped when I landed with a loud thud on my bottom.

"Miss Swan!" McGonagall exclaimed, standing to help from to my feet. "I thought you weren't supposed to be back for another week or two!"

I shrugged, dusting the soot off me. "I got lucky…and I was sure to rest a lot so I could make it in time for exams. But I still have to take ten potions a day for about another week," I added, patting the knapsack.

She nodded. "I'm glad you're better. Now, go on. You'd better change quickly. Breakfast has already started."

I nodded and practically skipped out of the Head of Gryffindor's office to the common room. Quickly, I said the password and entered the room. It was empty. Everyone was at breakfast by now, surely, doing last minute studying. The entire dormitory was empty, I found as I hastily changed into my uniform robes.

Still happy, I actually skipped to the Great Hall. The tall doors were closed, naturally, so I have to pull the attention to myself. Why do things like this happen to me? Can't I just be normal for once?

Sighing to myself, I pushed the oversized doors open enough for me to walk through. Nearly every head turns at the sound of the doors opening. Many jaws dropped, surprised. Harry, Ron, and Hermione must have spilled that I supposedly wouldn't be back before the end of the year.

I saw Harry, Ron, and Hermione looking at me, grinning as widely as possible. Most of the teachers look happy. Except Snape. Always Snape. He glowered at me with a look of deepest loathing, then stabbed something on his plate with his fork. I smiled even wider as I rushed to my friends and sat in my normal spot, which they oddly left empty.

"Bella!" they greeted, brightening.

"Hey guys!" I said, smiling more than I had in days.

"I thought you wouldn't be out of St Mungo's for a while," Ron said.

I shrugged. "You didn't think I'd miss exams, did you?"

He rolled his eyes. "Of course I didn't."


End file.
